When Something was Different
by Mrs. Norris1
Summary: Sadie Tibbs is an ordinary muggle fan-fic writer...but when she gets sucked into her own fafic, EVERYTHING gets turned around! Draco Malfoy, Death Eaters, A Pegasus, the Ultimate Monster, and Harry-hating abound!
1. We Meet Sadie, Something Very Weird Happ...

I was just out playing basketballI think it must be my inspiration

I was just out playing basketballI think it must be my inspiration. I was playing Friday and I just suddenly started singing this song. The words were just like pouring out of my mouth! Then I went inside and in about 15 minutes, I had composed an arrangement for it on the piano. And this song is actually good! Maybe I'll post itanyway, I was just out there, working up a sweat for about an hour (I have VERY stinky feet right nowwhew!), and I came up with the idea for this story. I know, I know, I'm working on a lot of stuff right now. But I think this is actually going to be good! Ok, for the actual summary

This is about a normal, every-day fanfic author who accidentally downloads something on her computer. Unfortunately, she forgot to close her fanfic filesbeing sucked into a fic is not exactly relaxing. And that's exactly what happens. But Sadie soon realizes that something is very wrongthis fic is not going how she wrote it. Maybe that's because she's _not_ the one writing itenjoy! 

Disclaimer: The fantabulous J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter gang, I own Sadie and myself, because I based Sadie on myself. Jennifer Mulbare is a stupid ugly popular girl in my school whose last name is not Mulbare, but something else that I shall not say. Sadie's friends belong to themselves except for Sabina Bertozzi, who is my art teacher's granddaughter. Mrs. Lotus is Mrs. Warren in reality. I love you Mrs. Warren! Is that enough? Ok, READ!

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When Something was Different

I like to think of myself as normal. Sadie Tibbs, the official normal thirteen-year-old, that's me! Yeah, right. I mean, I'm not a weirdo, don't get the wrong idea. When I say normal, I guess I mean boring. 

Everyone has that one thing they're good at. I mean, I wish I was smart, like Hermione. Sure, I get B's, but it's not the same as A's. The only class I ever get A's in is English. And that's the only class I really love. Writing is my passion. I mean, it's like something deep inside of me that I can just pull out whenever I feel bad or angry or even happy. Mrs. Lotus says it's my talent. Some talent. Whoop-de-do, I'm blessed with the muse of writing. But at least it's something.

Then, I sometimes wish I could be likeUgh, I can't be saying thisHarry. Yes, I hate Harry. I will say it out loud. Ron teases Hermione about being perfect. Ha! He just has to turn around and the ultimate example of perfection is always standing three feet away from him. I hate perfect people. Harry does not get bad grades. He has never lost to Voldemort. He's met the guy four stinking times! If he's so powerful, why can't he kill the stupid boy? Why does he always give Harry a fair chance? He always wants to have a duel or something where Harry has a chance to get away. Two words for you, Voldie: Avada Kedavra. But I give one thing to you, Harry. You are brave. I've always wanted to be brave. Then again, I'm braver than most people. Courage is something I really respect and strive for. I'd say I'm daring. I mean, I flat-out told Bobbie Feltmore I liked himhow good is that? And I can ride the biggest roller coasters about five times in a row without even puking. I think that's pretty good too. And I never,_ ever_ turn down a dare. _Ever_. But I'm not truly brave. Well, maybe I am. I've never faced Voldemort, so I guess I wouldn't know. 

And then, I sometimes even wish to be like Ron. Do you know how loyal that kid is? I mean, he has to put up with Harry, the snot, day in and day out. How many times has he been shunted aside? Let's count1, 2, 3, 4you get the idea. Has he ever really stopped being that loser's friend? No. I mean, if I was him, I would've slugged Harry in the jaw, kicked him in the shins, and shoved him out the door if he ever insulted me. Though that wouldn't be a problem, because I would never be friends with Harry anyway. 

If you've noticed, I say the words, "I mean" a lot. Does that annoy you? Tough. Because that's the way I talk. Sure, I can write all flowery like this: Harry's emerald eyes flashed as his piercing gaze turned to Voldemort, and he could feel the rage building in his chest. He breathed heavily as he watched a disgusting smile play on his enemy's mouth, lifting the skin on his lipless face. Suddenly Harry roared, "I am the biggest, stupidest loser on the planet!"

Ok, Ok, sorry. But you Harry lovers might as well leave nowno, wait, don't. He's in this story you know. I guess I know what you're thinking. I'm one of those Mary Sues that goes to Hogwarts and is all buddy-buddy with Harry and Co., invading another possibly good fic. Wrong. I'm about as far from a Mary Sue as you can get. I mean, I'm just a little predictable, but I try not to belook, if this is confusing you then I had better start way back at the beginning. From when I first got the account on fanfiction.net. No, wait, before that. I guess we have to go back to the first time I met Harry. Wow, I'm going to have to dig pretty deep. Ok, here goes nothing

I was nine. I picked up the book. I ran my fingers along its cover. From the moment I even felt it, the different texture of the paper, the crazy but strangely real illustration on the cover of that odd-looking boy catching a winged ball. The snitch. I never thought I'd see thatfeel itoh, sorry. Jumping ahead again.

There was something in that book. It was a kind of heat. I didn't have to read the inside of the cover. I didn't even have to read the title. I ran straight to my mom, tugged on her dress. I remember she was wearing that white dress with pink flowers. I always loved that dress. Ok, ok, sorry. From now on, I'll try to stick to the story.

Her face was so happy when she looked at me, handing a book to her. She was an author. And she loved to see me read. She thought it was the most important thing, hands down. But then when she saw the book, saw how thick it was, she pulled another book off the shelf next to her. 

__

"The One in the Middle is the Green Kangaroo"? I had said skeptically. I ran my fingers down the spine of the book in my hand, feeling that warmth from it that beckoned me to rip it open and savor each one of those tantalizing, sweet words inside it. 

"I want this one," I said. Mom took it from my hand, and it went cold again. 

"It's over three hundred pages, Sadiebabe," she said, using her nickname for me.

"Three hundred nine," I answered in a monotone. How did I know the number of pages?

After she saw how dejected I looked, she immediately gave in. I knew she would.

The moment the book was paid for, (on sale, $17.98) I nearly ripped a page in my haste to open it. I mean, it was like this strange magnetic attraction between me and this book. And I began reading out loud, perfectly, with no mistakes: "Chapter One: The Boy Who Lived. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense"

And so it went. The rest is history. I finished the book in less than a day, and read it a second time the next day. My mother had to literally pry it out of my hands. And every time we went back to that bookstore, I kneeled in the corner where _Harry_ sat and I sat down right with him to read. 

One day, about a year later, I went to sit down in that corner when I noticed that another book was sharing _Harry_'s shelfin anger, I picked up the intruder to put it in its place but when I saw the title and my eyes practically popped out of my head: _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_! It was mine five minutes later.

Harry Potter was not a book series. Harry was a person. I didn't have to like him, but alas, he was the main character. Hermione was real. Ron was real. They were all actual people to me. But I always got angry when I heard someone at school talking about Harry Potter.

"Have you read Harry Potter? Oh, I'll have to loan you my copy, Sarah. It's really cool!" Jennifer Mulbare, The Official High Queen of Popularity at my school (Oh, you know it, every school has one!), had said one day.

I had spun around to face her so fast, a few of my books had dropped from my pile. "You know about Harry too?"

"Excuse me?" she had asked, her tiny tweezed eyebrows raising. 

"You know Harry. Harry Potter."

She had laughed in my face. "Well not personally! My God, you talk like the guy's real or something. It's just a stupid book. Not even that good, anyway. C'mon Sarah, let's go."

If she hadn't turned away right then, her ugly dark hair with its ugly red highlights swishing behind her, I would have slugged her or stomped on her foot or slapped her face. How dare she insult my friend Harry! I picked up my eleven-year-old self and walked away and swore to myself that I would always hate Jennifer Mulbare. 

But I soon discovered that Jen was not the only one that knew about Harry Potter. The craze had soon hit the school. None of the fifth graders in my class could wait for summer and Harry Potter number three to be released. This was quite good for me, though, because I became quite popular. I was the Harry Potter freak that knew absolutely everything about it. I knew long before everyone else that it was called Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. I knew every rumor that had ever traveled the grapevine. And I knew the first book cover-to-cover, so whenever the seventh graders, who read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone in English class, had to take a test, they immediately turned to me. I had become popular in a mere few months. 

But I gained more than popularity. I gained real friends. Emily Barker, Sabina Bertozzi, and Laurie McCabe were Harry Potter fans as well, but best of all, they were also fans of me. I had never had many friends growing up, so this was a big step for me. It's always exciting to get your first life! 

That summer, my friends and I shared our thrill of the wonderful Prisoner of Azkaban. And after previously being in love with Draco Malfoy, I was now officially in love with Sirius. 

Sixth grade passed for me with all the boringness it could possibly contain and the summer simply followed suit. I still had another whole month until Harry Potter Four came out (then rumored to be called "Harry Potter and the Doomspell Tournament").

So one day, I believe it was June third, I logged onto the internet. I checked my Neopets account and e-mail as I usually did, then headed to [www.bored.com][1] for something interesting to do. I scanned the list for any new items and, to my luck, I did find something. Fanfiction.net. 

"Hmmmm" I said out loud to the computer, interested. I have a habit of doing that, talking to computer. I mean, it's just one of those annoying things I do that I can't help. Like saying "I mean". 

I looked at the site description and my stomach somersaulted. Harry Potter! There was Harry Potter fanfiction on this site! Immediately clicking excitedly on the link, I was delivered to the site where I proceeded to the Harry Potter section.

I was in absolute heaven. My characters in all new adventures, all amazing however stereotypical they might be. I was presented with a whole new language which I learned quickly: Mary Sue, flame, slash, constructive crit, shippers, cliché, sugar-high, and all those little words and phrases that are used daily by us authors. I studied all the writing for hours each day, all week. I learned to tell cliches apart from regular fics, learned how to write reviews, got author alerts, and did everything I could to prepare myself. And then, it was time.

On June 10, a week after I had discovered the miraculous ff.n, I clicked "authors" and got myself a screen name: Pegasus. It was simple, magical, and one of my favorite mythical creatures. And soon came my first fanfic. 

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Harry Potter and the Doomspell Tournament

It looked wonderful. It felt wonderful. It was fantastic to see this fic on the internet. My fic. I wrote it. It was mine. Wow. 

It was even more fantastic when, several hours after posting it, I looked at the number of reviews. Reviews: 3 

Yes, I know. Not so great. But I read that first review and my heart melted. I mean, it was like I had just had a baby and it was the first time I was taking her out to play and someone tells me how beautiful she is. The review said: Awesome! Sequel please! I hope the real book is like this! 

I was so proud until I saw the next review and my inflated ego let out a bit of air. It said: To tell you the truth, I didn't like it. 

But the rest of the reviews I received afterwards (157 in all, so far) were mostly positive. I loved fanfiction.

Twenty-seven fics, one Harry Potter book, and another grade later, I was on 109 favorite lists and had 3783 reviews total. My teacher, Mrs. Lotus, had us reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. She also allowed me to read my fanfics to the class, and I am truly grateful to her for that. She helped me learn to write as well as I could, taught me to "Go over the waterfall". 

One Saturday, I was putting the finishing touches on fic #28. It was about a girl named Ara Stellen who is placed in Hogwarts in her fifth year when her parents, who were aurors, are murdered by Voldemort. She learns she is witch and her parents had kept it a secret to protect her from the dangers of her world. Once at Hogwarts, Ara befriends Harry and Co. But one day, she falls through some soft ground into an abandoned chamber where she learns she is the Heir of Gryffindor. She also learns the secret to controlling Gryffindor's monster, which she uses in an exciting battle with Voldemort at the end.

Typing "The End" with a flourish, I had finished and rushed to upload it. So impatient to get rave reviews for what I though was my best fic, I didn't bother to close the files. 

Several minutes later, I had safely uploaded my story and was surfing the net for something to do. Bored.com had nothing new, nor did Neopets. Almost ready to give up and shut down, I came across an interesting banner across the top of some Harry Potter site I had been to a thousand times. It read: We can make your dream come true.

It was really simple. A light blue background and bold, dark blue letters. So I clicked it, so bored that I would do anything, even visit one of those stupid "Win a vacation" sites that this appeared to be. 

It started downloaded something. A little bar appeared on my screen that was gradually filling up. Sensing it would take awhile, I walked out and had some Oreos and milk.

Maybe if I had taken a few more minutes to lick the chocolate off my fingers like I usually did rather than wash them off because I was using the computer, it wouldn't have happened. I mean, everything we do affects everything else. But I didn't. And I can't go back in time.

I had walked back to my room and the downloading bar read, "One File Remaining", and soon, the little green bar was full. Suddenly, my fanfic story popped back up.

"Huh?" I tried to click back to the internet, but suddenly, the black and white letters began to swirl together on the page. 

"Hey, pieca junk!" I yelled, thinking it was broken. But the words just as suddenly formed themselves back together into eight new bold words: Get ready for the adventure of your life.

And then, It happened. I fell. I fell, headfirst, into the computer screen, which was like a pool of some creamy liquid. Words swirled around my head. Letters, all colors, my brain was swirling with them. Getting an awful headache, I had to close my eyes. There was this awful humming noise in the twisting mess around me, and I was surrounded by the pressure of air or wind or something. I felt a sharp pain in my head, but before I had time to scream for Advil, my feet hit hard, stone ground.

And when I opened my eyes, I didn't even have to look around or guess or reason. I mean, it was exactly as I knew it in my head, in my dreams. I was in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. 

Please review and tell me if you want more. I want to write more, so please say you want more. Please? Ok. Go, review. NOW!!! Hehehe!

   [1]: http://www.bored.com/



	2. Sadie Gets Sorted and Draco is a Hottie

Welcome to Chapter 2 ****

Welcome to Chapter 2! Have a lot of fun and please don't throw up! Nank. Ok, ok, turning to normal mode..there we go. Thank you to the FOUR measly people that reviewed chapter one (not that you are measly, the number is measly. Is that even spelled right? No, I don't think so. But you know what? I don't care!) Here's the next part of the story!

Oh God. This is not happening. This is impossible. This is a dream. 

__

Get ready for the adventure of your life.

The words echoed in my head. My dream was actually happening. I was at Hogwarts. But suddenly, my rational, non-Harry Potter mind took over. I had to be somewhere else. Hogwarts was nonexistent! 

No. For once in my life, my Harry Potter mind was correct. I mean, it was exactly how it was supposed to look, how I pictured it, how I always described it in my fics.

The walls were made of a rough, gray stone that glinted a bit in the light. _It probably has quartz in it_, I thought. The lighting itself was positively breathtaking. Flaming torches adorned the walls in high, decorated sconces. And then I remembered something and looked up. Yes. They were there.

Thousands upon thousands of different sized white candles floated twenty feet above me and far above the candles, perhaps a hundred feet on the cathedral-like ceiling, was the bewitched sky. If I hadn't known better, I would have thought there was a huge hole in the castle's roof. The sky was the darkest of midnight blues and was dotted with tiny diamonds- stars. There were a few wispy clouds there, too. It was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen. Real magic. 

And then, I noticed the other sights and sounds around me. There was the excited buzz of talking students. In front of me was a very large expanse of stone floor. Stretching halfway across the entire Great Hall were four huge tables, each about fifty feet in length. They were simple, made of a shiny, dark wood that looked like it might be mahogany. The tables, which were about three feet high, had supporting legs about every yard that each ended with a clawed foot. Along the entire length of either side of the table was a long, cushioned bench upon which the students sat. Where was Harry?

I knew what to look for: the Weasleys. I mean, how hard could it be to find someone with a head of supposedly flaming red hair? And how great is that name? Weasley. It sounds hilarious if you say it in a really high voice and stretch out the "e". Weeeeasley!!!! 

I was right. I immediately spotted what had to be the Gryffindor table on the far right of the room, the last table. They were all seated toward the middle of the long table, so it was a little hard to see over the heads of all those kids. I mean, there were about 70 kids of all ages at each table. 

I could recognize Fred and George pretty easily because they were tall; I guessed when they were standing, they were about six feet and they were muscular. And man, were they hot! They were both laughing, and when they did, their eyes brightened and crinkled. It was so cute! I think their eyes were blue, but I couldn't really tell from where I was standing, at the opposite side of the room. But I could see that their sloping noses were dotted with fawn-colored freckles. And the hair was literally flaming! It was a sunset red color, with lots of orange mixed in. One head had slightly curly hair and the other had kind of spiky hair. The one with the spiky hair was definitely cuter; I hoped it was Fred because I had always liked him better. 

I picked out Ginny next, probably because she was a girl and there were a few more boys than girls at the Gryffindor table. I felt a little anger at this because it was the house of bravery and this suggested that girls aren't brave. But there was nothing I could do about that. I mean, I'm not the one that sorts them! Ginny was very pretty and looked a lot like Fred and George. She had a nose that was a little bit too long, but besides that, she was beautiful. Her lips were a lovely coral color that I could tell was natural and her cheeks also had a natural blush to them. She was dotted with the same freckles as her brothers and she had the same color hair as well. However, hers was thick, long, and wavy and was tied back with a green ribbon. She was talking to a boy next her with mousy brown hair that I assumed was Colin Creevey. 

After a bit of searching, I finally found Ron. Ron wasn't nearly has hot as his brothers, but he did have a slight bit of cuteness. He was almost as tall as Fred and George and his nose was even longer than Ginny's. His freckles were a bit more noticeable, but his hair wasn't as brilliantly colored as his siblings', but it was spiky, like Fred's. I could certainly tell that Ron had blue eyes, so Fred and George probably did too. 

When I took another look at all of them, I saw that the black robes they were wearing were all a little bit too short, especially Ron's. This was probably because he was so thin, but tall at the same time. 

I suddenly became aware of a hand on my shoulder. I jumped and spun around. I hadn't realized that I was really there and people could see me. I was surprised not everyone was staring at me. But apparently, someone had finally noticed me.

I was staring into the face of Albus Dumbledore. I mean, how much more obvious could it be? He was very old, but not as old as I thought he might look. He had a bright smiling face and a beard and hair that was shining and white like pearls. But it wasn't the usual nasty, wiry hair that old people tend to have. It looked as healthy as ever, possibly because it was so shiny. It wasn't straight either; it was very long and wavy. And behind the half-moon spectacles were the most amazing eyes I had ever seen. They had dark, glistening pupils and irises the color ofoh, I can't even explain the color! It was like the color of a blueberry iMac computer, clear and shining. Or perhaps it was more like the sky, light and happy. But they were surrounded by a darker color that was likeI can't explain to you! 

Then, he spoke. "Ara, the Sorting's about to start. Now, I don't want you to be nervous. Just be yourself," Dumbledore said to me, staring into my eyes. He then turned away.

_He called me Ara_, my stunned mind thought. I was my own made-up character! _No! NO! **NO!** _screamed my rational mind. But it had to be true. I mean, how common is the name Ara? I thought back to the ficoh no. Dumbledore had said that to Ara, those exact words! In chapter one, the third, no, fourth paragraph! What had I gotten myself into? 

Suddenly, I realized that I was part of a line of about forty kids that all looked to be around ten or eleven years old. I could see all the tops of their heads, so I knew I had grown from my somewhat short height of five feet, one inch, unless, of course, I was wearing platforms or something. _These are the first years!_ All the kids appeared to be really nervous, all fidgeting and biting their nails. I, being myself, wasn't nervous at all. I never get nervous. I love to sing (I think I might want to be in musical theatre when I'm older), and I'm never nervous when I sing in front of people. I'm never nervous for oral book reports or projects. I never get nervous about things I should be nervous about. And I wasn't nervous now. I just used the word "nervous" eight times. Well, there's number nine. 

And then I saw the Sorting Hat. It was sitting on a stool on a sort of raised plinth-type thing and it was the ugliest thing I had ever seen. Compared to the sleek, pointed black hats some of the kids were wearing (a good number of them had taken theirs off or still had them packed), it was a piece of garbage. It looked like it was made of wool or some other coarse material. I think it was once black, but it was so frayed and dirty that it had turned a disgusting shade of gray with spots of pukey greens and browns. It looked like some kid had even been so anxious about the sorting that he had thrown up on it. The hat had many multi-colored patches, mostly faded shades of red, green, blue, and yellow. It had a very wide brim and, for the first time, I noticed that the hat was about three times bigger than even Dumbledore's had been. 

I was suddenly surprised when a rip that I had thought was sewed up ripped open like a mouth and started emitting words. The Sorting Hat of Hogwarts had pretty high voice, but it was a guy's voice, nonetheless. J.K.R, I love you. But aren't you just a bit sexist?

I was so fascinated by the mere existence of a talking hat that I didn't even notice the song. Okay, okay, you've caught me. I just don't feel like writing down the whole thing. It happened to be a very long song. But the way the hat talked about the houses, it made them all sound good, even though I knew I'd die if I ended up in Hufflepuff. However, that didn't matter, because I already knew Ara was sorted into Gryffindor the moment she placed the hat on her head because she was, of course, Gryffindor's heir. 

A very tall, very straight, and very thin witch had stepped up next to the Sorting Hat's little platform. I mean, talk about prim! She was wearing a high, pointed hat, but I could tell she had a bun in her jet-black hair because of the tightness of the surrounded hair. She could be no one else but Professor McGonagal. Clearing her throat softly and discreetly, she announced in either an Irish or Scottish accent: " Welcome, first years, to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You will walk up to this stool, place the hat on your head, and sit down. Once you have been sorted, please walk to the appropriate table. First, Adams, Lawrence."

A pudgy, pig-faced boy trotted anxiously up to the platform where he put on the hat with fat, trembling hands. After a moment of pondering, the hat shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!" and the boy practically ran over to a table adorned with a yellow and purple cloth, where a girl who was most likely his sister was yelling, "Yay, Larry! All right!"

Before I could examine the Hufflepuffs, Mcgonagal wasted no time in shouting for, "Atwell, Jeremy". 

A short kid walked slowly to the sorting hat as if he were headed for the electric chair. He had short, blond hair and a face that would have probably been really sweet if he had been smiling. After a few long moments with the hat on, he became a Ravenclaw. He walked to a table decorated with blue and silver to the cheers of his fellow house members. He looked much more relieved, though he wasn't yet smiling. 

The line was beginning to dwindle by the time the hat had proclaimed, "Samson, Julie" a Gryffindor. Finally, after Gabriel Zurich became a Slytherin, it was my turn. Professor McGonagal did not yell this time. She said, quite warmly, actually, "I would like you all to welcome Ara Stellen to Hogwarts. She has been raised a muggle for her entire life, but now, after the unfortunate death of her parents, we have realized we made an, er, mistake when we were sending out acceptance letters. Ara was the first witch in centuries we skipped over! Ara, Hogwarts sends its sincerest apologies to you. Please step forward to be sorted."

I smiled my thanks, laughing inwardly at the way McGonagal kept using the word "we" when she was the one in charge of acceptance letters. But I had already known exactly what she was going to say; I had typed the words with my own hands. Walking up to the Sorting Hat's podium, I looked down at those hands. They no longer bore my usual chipped blue nail polish. In fact, the nails were long and elegant compared to my old bitten ones. I was so distracted by looking at my new hands, I almost tripped over the stool. 

I picked up the hat. It was lighter than it looked. I placed it on my head as I simultaneously sat down. The hat fell halfway down my face, but not as far as it had slipped down on some of the first years. I immediately heard a tiny, fast voice in my ear.

"Oh my, my, my. This is going to be quite difficult. I haven't seen this many different possibilities since Harry Potter!"

_Please not Hufflepuff,_ I thought hard to the hat, knowing what I had to do.

"Ah, so you _do_ know, eh?" said the hat. "I thought I saw something about that. Oh yes, right here. It's very obvious."

_Huh? I know what? And what are you looking at up there?_

"Hmm, a very inquisitive mind, perhaps Ravenclaw would suit you."

__

Yes! Yes, I like Ravenclaw! But that Cho Chang's a loser. I never liked her. I was thinking about Harry Potter automatically. My mind always managed to wander to it somehow.

"Ah, we shall not insult our fellow classmates. Maybe you _would_ do well in Slytherin!" the hat chuckled. "But that Cho Chang, she was a bit of a snit."

__

I knew she was no good. So, where am I _going to be? I am brave, you know. I mean, I can ride some really mean roller coasters and stuff like that. Not that it really matters for magic. _I was probably the only kid that had tried to have a conversation with the Sorting Hat. I was so relaxed I had even closed my eyes.

"Hmmm, you really are incredibly difficult! Friendly, intelligent, courageous, determined. Sarcastic, too," the hat added, chuckling again.

I laughed too. _Ha, ha. Very funny. Can you please just sort me?_

"If you're that anxious, Sadie, then you better be in SLYTHERIN!"

I went numb. I didn't take the hat off. I forgot about conversing.

"Watch your tongue!" the hat chided in my ear. I guess I had been swearing in my head. But how could I not? I took off the hat and walked glumly over to the Slytherins, who were cheering and cat-calling. _At least they think I'm pretty_, I thought hopelessly. I sat down in the middle of the table where there was an empty seat. I didn't really care who I sat next to at that point.

__

I'm not in Slytherin. I'm not in Slytherin. I repeated it over and over, hoping maybe that if I said it enough times it would be true. _That stupid hat! _I thought angrily. But waitthe Sorting Hat had called me Sadie

I heard a wolf whistle from behind me. "Well, hello there, young lady. May I ask what your name is?" A smooth-like-butter voice said from the same direction. I certainly was not in the mood, so I spun around, poised to smack whoever had said it. But when I did, my raised hand melted to my side. In fact, my entire body melted.

However hot I had ever envisioned Draco Malfoy to be, he was ten times hotter in person. _Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. _All wishes to leave Slytherin house were instantly gone. All my descriptions, all my dreams, all my drawings. They were meaningless next to his actual face. I mean, I could have died, seeing this angel before me!

Draco's face was thin and shapely, with high, defined cheek bones. His skin was pale, but not white, and it was very even and delicate looking. He had a thin mouth that smiled the most flirty, adorable, playful, mysterious smile ever. It was a "Well _hello_ there!" type of smile that signified that he had looked me over and definitely approved. His nose was long, but not a goofy kind of long like the Weasleys'. All thoughts that Fred and George were the cutest guys in the world had flown out the window, right along with any bad opinions of Slytherin. His nose was a little pointed, but not upturned. 

And then there were the eyes. Someone catch me, I'm falling into those eyes! I thought Dumbledore's eyes were indescribable. Well, I guess it's time for a famous Sadie Tibbs complex analogy. When I looked into Draco's eyes, I felt as if I flew into another world. His eyes were a crystal pool of water. It was nighttime in the forest where this pool lay and beams of moonlight shone through the gaps of the trees' leaves into the pool. And there was a pure white unicorn that dipped its diamond horn into the shimmering water and purified it andOh God. His eyes were so beautiful, but so simple. They were like one swirling mass of light blue and silver with a bottomless pit in the center. 

Over his eyes, which were half covered by Draco's pale eyelids, were slightly raised eyebrows that had a handsome arc to them. Draco's hair wasn't as light as I thought it would be. It wasn't really white at all; it was more of a golden honey blond color, but the white came from the way it reflected the light. Draco's hair was even more gleaming than Dumbledore's. His bangs parted and hung down in front of his eyes and he lazily brushed them away with long, thin fingers. 

"Draco Malfoy," I said, so softly I was almost whispering.

"So you've heard of me," He answered in that rich, smooth voice. We just sat there for a minutes, gazing at each other. And to tell you the truth, I didn't care if I might never get back to my home again, or that I was in Slytherin when I should be in Gryffindor, or that I still hadn't even seen Harry yet, because I just wanted to stay right there forever.


	3. Sadie has her first meal at Hogwarts, di...

Well, I guess I must be doing something right because almost all of the reviews I've gotten for this story are positivesave fo

Well, I guess I must be doing something right because almost all of the reviews I've gotten for this story are positivesave for a few, of course, that I can't decipher to be negative _or_ positive::shrugs:: So, with that, I give you Chapter three! 

P.S.- I may be a little slow with the next few chapters because of camp (yay! Hi to everyone from SMARTS!) and play practice (Yay! Hi to everyone in _The Sound of Music_ even though I don't know who you are yet!). Ok, now READ, what do you think this is, a fanlookatthewordsandnotcomprehendanything site?

Our gazing was suddenly interrupted by a wise and silvery sounding voice. 

"If you could allow me to say a few words," said Dumbledore's melodious -voice. I was expecting some sort of nitwit, blubber' type of thing. I happened to be right. "A few words," he said, then sat down, waving a hand that was a signal for us to eat. 

I suddenly realized I was famished. I mean, those stupid cookies and milk seemed days ago. And unlike the other kids, I hadn't had a feast of junk food on the Hogwarts Express before arriving. When I turned again, I almost screamed with surprise and sheer joy at the spread on the table. 

"Yes!" I screeched with delight, not able to control myself. Miles upon miles of food was heaped on the silver plates (which were encrusted with emeralds). Before digging into whatever was there, I took time to notice that the Hufflepuffs' plates were gold with amethysts, the Gryffindors' were gold with rubies, and the Ravenclaws' were silver with sapphires. _Sheesh!_ _These people sure take pride in their school colors! I don't even know my school colors. I think its blue and white but_

I shoved everything I could onto my plate without spilling it over, then dug my spoon in as well and popped it all into my mouth. Unfortunately, Draco turned around to talk to me at that exact moment. 

"Oh, you like tripe?" he asked, surprised.

At first, I was simply so ecstatic that he had talked me again that I didn't even notice the gag reflex being triggered in my throat. I mean, Draco Malfoy, the most beautiful thing on the planet, was talking to me! But I caught myself from throwing up just in time, realized exactly _what_ he had said and taking a very large swallow. 

"Tripe?" I gagged. 

"I have absolutely no taste for it," he continued. "Dora, our cook, is always trying to shove it down my throat. I just can't stand the thought of gulping down sheep guts."

That did it. 

"Ugh!" I shouted. "Ugh, ugh, ugh!" I didn't care how shocked Draco looked because I had just tasted the most disgusting thing in the world. Plus, I have this thing about not killing animals. I'd be a vegetarian if my parents allowed it, so the best thing I can do is to only eat beef, pork, and chicken. I mean, I don't even eat turkey on Thanksgiving. 

"I just ate a woolly, innocent, fluffy little sheep!" I screeched at the top of my lungs. Half the Great Hall had turned around to stare. But to my dismay, Draco had become bored and turned to busy himself with the girl to his right. 

I strained my neck to see who she was. At once, I knew it was Pansy Parkinson. I mean, she literally looked like a pug. She had this weird, flat face and a squashed, upturned nose. Her eyes were tiny, beady, and black and they were set low on her face near the ugly nose. Her mouth was big; I wasn't surprised. And a big frizzy lump of dirty-blond hair surrounded her head. 

Pansy seemed to notice I had been staring. I mean, how can you not notice someone nearly breaking their neck just to look at your ugly face.

"Oh, hello!" she said with a forced smile, not sounding welcoming at all. "You're Ara, pleased to meet you! My name's-"

"Pansy. Pansy Parkinson," I interrupted, finishing for her. 

Draco smiled at me again (I slid about three feet into my seat) and said, "Got a way with names, don't you?"

I grinned back. "So, would you mind telling me what all this stuff is? My mum never cooks any of it."

_I just said Mum'._ I had suddenly realized I had a British accent. How weird was this? I mean, I look down at my hands, and they're not my hands. I talk, and it's not my voice. Someone says my name, and it's not my name. My heavy pondering was interrupted by Draco's voice. 

"Well, this is kidney pie, and that's liver and onions"

After about a thousand dishes that were either too disgusting to eat or unacceptable in my diet, I picked out a mouth-watering piece of steak, a huge baked potato, sauteed mushrooms, a caesar salad, and corn-on-the-cob. I was delighted to find that my potato was already stuffed with mounds of sour cream, butter, cheese, and bacon. It was one of the best meals I ever had and was very sad to see it go. I mean, it even looked pretty on the plate!

But just as suddenly as the food had appeared, it faded into the plates and something new and just as mouth-watering took its place. Mountains of all different desserts were piled high on the silver plates. A big huge bowl of trifle was in the center. I grabbed that first because trifle's one of my favorite desserts. I mean, I only started eating it like a year ago, but now I don't know how I lived with out it. After the trifle came a lump of chocolate ice cream with nonpareils sprinkled on top. By now, I was full to the bursting point. _I'm going to have to run laps around the castle to get these pounds off!_

"Well, I suppose we all feel much better now, don't we?" came Dumbledore's voice across the chamber, instantly quieting the crowd. A few very satisfied sounding "Mmm-hmmms" came from the older students. Fred and George Weasley were pretending to explode. I was about to burst out laughing when I spied a look of distinct animosity on Draco's face and forced myself to shut up.

Dumbledore continued, "For all first years, the Forbidden Forest is, as the name suggests, forbidden. It would do several others who will remain unnamed well to heed this warning as well."

He winked in the direction of the Weasley twins. The spiky-haired one (Let's just call him Fred_)_ stood up and gave the Headmaster a salut.

"Also, Quidditch practice and games will resume again as normal this year. New captains and players will be selected as needed. And finally, a special plot of land by the Quidditch field has been dedicated in the memory of Cedric Diggory. There is a small memorial stone and a bench. Flowers, gifts, or a simple visit would be greatly appreciated, I'm sure, by Cedric. I ask for a final moment of silence, if you please."

The entire hall went silent except for Draco, who was purposely muttering dirty words under his breath. I kicked him under the table and when he didn't shut up, I did it again, hard. His mouth closed immediately. When the long moment was over, Dumbledore raised his bowed head and said, "Now, for a rendition of the school song!" 

Just like in the first book, he snapped out his wand and ribbons sprang out of the end and swirled themselves into words. "Pick your favorite tune and sing along!"

I ended up choosing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" and was one of the last to finish (except, of course, for the Weasleys, who were singing to a very slow "Amazing Grace"). 

"Thank-you, Misters Fred and George Weasey. You've got a lovely voice, Miss Stellen. Now, be off with you!"

With that, the entire Hall stood up at the same time and began to make their way towards the door. I did too. I mean, how couldn't I? It was like being swept into the current of a river!

When the Slytherins finally reached the corridor about five minutes later, Draco came up beside me, offering an arm. Looking over his shoulder (I think he was making sure Pansy was watching), he said, "Allow me to escort you to class, pretty lady!" I took his arm. I mean, how could I refuse?

The hallway was narrow and made of stone, with stained glass windows in pastel colors every few yards. There seemed to be an infinite amount of students from infinite amounts of different ethnic backgrounds. 

"Nice, uh, robes" Draco said nervously, looking me up and down. I looked at the robes myself. They were a light crushed velvet material and very dark black. Surprisingly enough, it was really comfortable, though the sleeves were a bit long. I felt myself blush a little as I muttered a thank you and continued to scan the corridor like a hawk, looking for Harry Potter. 

Finally, I found him. He was next to Ron, who was almost six feet tall. Hermione was with them, too. I couldn't get a close look, but I could still tell she was very pretty. I mean, the way J.K. Rowling describes her, you'd think she's some ugly troll or something. She was small and petite with delicate features and a thick head of hair that I wouldn't exactly call bushy. 

I could hardly see Harry at all. It didn't really matter, because I didn't exactly care. I mean, I'd see him every day, and that would probably be too much for me anyway.   
"Impressed by Potter's scar, eh?" Draco spat bitterly. 

"No, actually, I think he's a geeky loser that's too perfect at everything," I answered coldly. He seemed very impressed.

I decided to test him, see if he really was as mean as described. "What about that Granger girl?" I asked casually.

"Oh, that stupid Mudblood? Well, that's really all you have to know about her, she's muggle-born!"

Ok, there's a difference between having an opinion, holding a grudge, and being a downright ignoramus. Draco was definitely doing the third one. Another thing I'm really sensitive to is when people make fun of others because of racial or family stuff. And I basically blew up. 

"What makes you think you have any right to say something so disgusting?! What are you, some sort of racist pig?! I mean, really, I didn't think you were that stupid! Making fun of someone because of blood' is the most pointless thing I've ever heard of! I bet you don't even know her! I _know_ that you don't even know her! And what is blood anyway? Blood is a liquid that flows through your veins and brings oxygen to your organs. That really sounds like it makes you who you are, doesn't it? NO! Blood means nothing! It can't make decisions for you, it can't make your friends, and it certainly doesn't have a personality!" I was on one of my tangents now. I was totally famous for these at my old school. Good thing I took that debate elective! 

"I suppose you think pure-blood' really means something. Well, guess what? It doesn't! Because you aren't half the wizard Hermione Granger is and you never will be! Whether you're a half-blood' wizard, a full wizard, or a quarter wizardit doesn't matter because you're still a wizard!"

Now half the hall was staring. Harry, Hermione and Ron were looking very pleased. 

"You will never, _ever_ say anything that sick and judgmental in my presence, you disgusting bigot! Do you hear me, Draco Malfoy? You will _never_ make fun of Hermione for being a half-blood.' You will never make fun of Ron Weasley for being poor. And you will never make fun of anyone else at all for things they can't help because they are all perfectly good people, unlike you, you big, fat, racist jerk!" I was breathing really hard now. I mean, I was positively fuming! But I couldn't care less because I had just done my good deed for the day and I felt darn proud. Draco was hot, but nobody was going to get away with racial slurs in _my_ presence. Everybody at my old school knew that. 

When I had calmed down enough, I noticed that I was getting a tumultuous applause from the Gryffindors in the corridor. Cat calls, whistles, and cheers came from all around, so I took a well-deserved bow. But I suddenly noticed Draco, who was starting to slither away. I grabbed him by the collar. 

"I don't think so. You are going to walk me to the Common Room like you promised!"

And he did. The cheers followed us all down the hall until we took a fork to the right and the Gryffindors stayed to the left. Draco was still as red as a tomato, which looked really weird compared to his normally pale skin. 

We turned again several moments later until we reached a dead end. "Cottage cheese," Draco muttered and the stone wall faded, just like something out of a movie, to reveal a heavy door which we opened and passed through.

Wow. The Slytherin Common Room was weird. I mean, I had never imagined it to be the way it was. It was a very large round room with a huge stone fireplace carved into the wall. About fifteen high-backed chairs were set in a big semicircle around the fireplace. Being a dungeon room, it was really cold and damp. There wasn't a single window, either. It made me feel like a prisoner. 

Before I could complain, however, Draco said, "What was that for, eh? Want to make a laughing stock of me?"

I smirked and said, "Well you needed to hear it from someone. What makes you think you can walk all over people like that? Just because you think you're better? If you act like that, you're certainly not. Not better, I mean." I changed my smile to a kinder, gentler one. "I'm sorry. But you can't act like that, nobody can. Goodnight, Draco."

I trudged down three stairs to find two doors, one labeled girls' and the other, boys'. I obviously chose girls'. After another five stairs leading downward, there was a large landing with seven doors marked with numbers for the year. I picked five' and walked through to find another stinking set of stairs, this one even longer. I mean, how low was the place I was sleeping?

Very low. When I got to the square room, I was dismayed to discover that it was freezing. A pit with a grate over it was built into the floor in the center of the room to hold a fire, but it wasn't lit. Millicent Bulstrode, Pansy Parkinson, and two other girls I didn't know were sitting around the pit, chatting (probably about me). 

"Which one's mine?" I asked, nodding to the beds. Pansy pointed to the one farthest on the right (and farthest from the door where it was warmer). I smiled pleasantly, even though I was really scowling inside. I mean, what a nasty jerk! 

The beds were wrought iron four-posters. The headboard was woven into intricate swirling designs and I was reminded of the wind. I changed into a nightgown that was left out on the bed for me inside the curtains, then poked my head out to see if they were all still there. Only Pansy and Millicent were left sitting by the dead fire pit. 

"Ahem," I cleared my throat. They purposely ignored me. "I'm going to bed now. Goodnight!" I said. 

Pansy turned and forced a crooked smile, then faced Millicent again and muttered, "And good riddance." 

Sometimes I'm glad I have really good hearing because I often pick up on things I'm not supposed to. "I'm glad you like me so much Pansy. It's so good to have friends! Especially the kind that say things they should say behind my back even though I'm within earshot!" I exclaimed enthusiastically and a little too loudly. But she got the picture. 

I hopped back into the bed, feeling pleased with myself. I heard the two other girls finally slip into bed as well within the next five minutes, and snores followed quickly. But I didn't sleep. I mean, would you be able to sleep after a day like that? 

I waited about a half hour to make sure everyone was soundly nodding, then I crept from my bed and crouched next to my trunk. 

"Now, how do I open you, hmmm?" I asked the trunk, getting into my old habit of talking to inanimate objects. I tickled the lock lightly but, to my dismay, it did nothing. I thought it might giggle or do _something_ exciting. All of a sudden, I remembered something. I mean, how could I forget the most important part of magic? My wand! I dug through the huge pockets of my new nightgown. Maybe it was a wizard thing, but the pockets were absolutely enormous! I mean, I could fit an elephant into these things!

But then, I found it. A long, thin piece of polished wood reached my fingertips. I pulled it out. Wow. It was so warm. It was pretty long and had a little metal cap on the end. I assumed this was where the magic came out, if that makes any sense. The four-inch handle was silver or pewter with the same elegant swirling designs as my headboard. Around the edge of the handle on the bottom was a ring of little blue gems. I counted seven. 

__

I just wish I knew what was in it. The answer to that came almost immediately when I discovered a slip of paper on the floor that had curly green script printed on it: a receipt from Ollivander's. It read: One Wand, Maple, Phoenix Feather, Ten inches- 16 Galleons. 

My own wand. Wow. Wow again. It was so perfect and shiny and hot and bright and wonderful. And the feeling to hold something so powerful in my handI could heal someone with it. I could kill someone with it. It was like being a doctor and a murderer at the same time. That's a weird comparison, but I think you understand. 

I decided to try it out. Sticking the wand's silver point straight into my trunk's lock, I whispered, "_Alohomora!_" The lock unhitched itself and fell to the floor. I was full of glee. I had made it happen! I was, like, totally ecstatic. Then I remembered why I had gotten the wand out in the first place. I opened the trunk, which creaked loudly. Fortunately, the others didn't stir. 

Inside the trunk, I discovered four more sets of robes. One was crushed velvet like the one I had worn today; the others were a wonderful soft and flowing black material. There were some books, quills, and parchment and a few little drawstring bags. Upon looking inside, I found that two had money in them, and the other had makeup and hair stuff. When I reached the trunk's bottom, I found a grubby little package that reminded me of the Sorcerer's Stone in the first book. 

It was wrapped in dull brown paper and tied with some twine. A tag attached to it read: To our dear Ara. Happy fifteenth Birthday! Love, Mum and Dad.

I felt a twang of homesickness in my heart. What if my parents were looking for me at home? Or what if the _real _Ara was at my house, pretending to be me like I was pretending to be her? I mean, anything could be happening at my house right now! But I brushed those scary thoughts aside and set my mind to unwrapping the package. 

I gasped as it fell into my hands. _It really is like woven water!_ It flowed through my hands like liquid silver. It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. I flung it over my shoulders and looked down. _It really does work!_

For Ara's birthday, her parents had bought her an invisibility cloak. 


	4. Sadie eats breakfast, calls Pansy Parkin...

Ok, donít yell at me for rushing (though I donít know why in the world you ever would), but chapter four is here

Yay! It's summer and now you have lots of time to read my fics! J Part Four's here, so read on!

I had decided not to try out the Invisibility Cloak that night. I mean, getting caught out of bed the first day there didn't seem like a very good idea. 

When I did wake up the next morning, a very big shock awaited me in the mirror. And I mean big. 

My predictable little Mary Sue, Ara, had beautiful, long golden hair. I mean, what color would your expect it to be? She had glittering blue eyes and a button nose. Coral lips, long blond eyelashes, you name it. She had the entire package of perfect Mary Sue-ness. It made me sick to think I had created her.

When I looked in the mirror, I almost jumped back. My hair was a little longer than shoulder-length. It was a shiny blue-black and it was very wavy, so wavy it was almost curly. I mean, you could tell they were waves, they were just really tight waves. 

I had boring brown eyes, but they were still different from my old hazel ones. My skin was pale like a lot of the Slytherins' was. My nose was a long ski slope. My eyelashes were dark and short. My cheeks were tinged with a very pale rose color. My lips were dark. Something in this story was different. Something was wrong. 

I could do nothing about it anyway, though, so I just got dressed and found my way (I should say lost my way) to the Great Hall. 

Almost everyone else was already there. I took the same seat I had taken the previous night, next to Draco. He smiled, and I guessed he had forgiven me for my tirade. 

The table was chock-full of delicious looking breakfast food. It reminded me of the buffets I had eaten at in Las Vegas. I really like Las Vegas. I recommend it for a vacation, especially if you like roller coasters. There was this one huge one there andok, I'm getting off topic again, right?

The glittering plates held eggs in every style imaginable: scrambled, fried, sunny-side up, omelets, hard-boiled, in a cup, eggs benedict and even more. There were foot-long strips of tender bacon and fat, juicy sausages. There was toast with the butter melted in just right. There were pancakes, porridge, oatmeal, waffles, muffins, English muffins, bagels, doughnuts, cereal, and every single type of butter, jelly, syrup, and spread there was. 

I dug in. Unlike last night, I liked everything on the table and I took a bit of it all. 

"Eat much?" sneered Pansy Parkinson from Draco's right. 

"No," I answered snappily. "But it certainly looks like you do."

Where did that come from? I didn't usually just insult people like that. And Pansy wasn't even fat. It was so weird. I mean, the thing had just popped out of my mouth!

Pansy had just given me another nasty sneer and turned away. 

"Don't mind her," said Draco. "She gets jealous very easily."

"Are you twoI mean, are you an item?" I asked him cautiously. I was curious because of the little hints in the book that Draco and Pansy were going out. 

"We were a little, last year," he answered uncomfortably. "But I figured out that she's an arrogant, jealous, high-maintenance loser."

I smiled. 

Breakfast went pretty well. I chatted idly with Draco and found him to be a fairly nice person. I mean, he was nice around me, anyway.

About half way through my huge plate of food, I felt someone tap my back. I turned around to find Hermione standing timidly behind me. 

"Could I, er, talk to you for a sec?" She asked quietly, glancing nervously at the other Slytherins. She had a very nice, clear voice. I didn't think it sounded bossy at all, but that's just me. 

Draco scowled and raised his eyebrows in question. I shrugged and followed Hermione to a corner. 

Here, I got a good look at her. Her hair wasn't that bushy, after all. It was just a little frizzy. It was a light brown color with pretty fawn highlights. She had medium skin dotted with tiny freckles. Her nose was round. Her eyes were deep brown and very big. 

"Look," she spoke, a bit more confidently now that she was away from the Slytherins. "I just wanted to thank you for what you did yesterday. For sticking up for me."

I felt myself turn red. "Hey, it was nothing. I mean, what'd you expect me to do, laugh?"

"That's what most of the other Slytherins do. But you're different. You don't seem like them."

There was a long pause. "Well," said Hermione with a deep breath. "If there'sanything you needanything you want, I'll do it."

I was about to shake my head no, but I had an idea. "There is one thing. Could you introduce me to Ron Weasley and Harry Potter?"

Hermione looked surprised, confused, and pleased at the same time. 

The Gryffindor fifth years seemed to have claimed one of the ends of the table for themselves. I could recognize Harry, Ron, sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who was black and extremely tall. I figured he would make a good basketball player, but then remembered he was the soccer fan. 

Harry and Ron sat at the very end and there was an empty spot across from them where I assumed Hermione sat. 

"Harry, Ron," she said. They looked up. 

_What a geek._ Harry was one sad loser. Ok, ok. He wasn't that bad. But his hair was really messy. I mean, it looked like he had just tumbled out of bed and not bothered to brush it. His glasses were big and round and they reminded me of my dad. He has really big glasses and my mom and I have dubbed him, "Owl Man". 

But the most startling thing about Harry were his eyes. I didn't think anything could be so bright. Maybe it's a wizard thing, but people seemed to have really weird eyes. Harry's, like Draco's and Dumbledore's, were an indescribable color, a glistening emerald, so deep and shiny and light and dark and everything all at the same time. I imagined his mother must have been beautiful, with her lengths of auburn hair and the same wonderful eyes. 

"This," continued Hermione, "Is Ara Stellen. Ara, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley."

Ron was gazing at me as if I was the coolest thing on earth. "Great speech yesterday, Ara, absolutely magnificent!" he said reaching out a hand, which I shook. _He's kind of cute_, I thought absentmindedly. 

"Well I'm glad you liked it," I said, grinning ear-to-ear. Harry stood up to shake my hand as well but I just ignored him. 

"So," Harry said uncomfortably, obviously not used to being overlooked. "I guess we have first period together."

"Ooohh, that reminds me!" squealed Hermione. "I was going to invite you to walk down with us. We usually go down early to see Hagrid, he's the Care of Magical Creatures teacher, and well, if you wanted to meet him, you can come down with uswe've got that class first"

I nodded enthusiastically. We arranged to meet in the entrance hall in 15 minutes, so I bid _just_ Ron and Hermione goodbye and scurried to my dormitory. I mean, I didn't want Harry to think I liked him or anything. 

After brushing my teeth, washing my face, and doing up my brand-new hair in a cool little jeweled headband/headpiece sort of thing I had found in my trunk, I skipped back up to the entrance hall. I found the Potter trio standing by the door, waiting for me. 

"Ready?" said Hermione. 

"Yeah," I answered as Harry and Ron pushed open the huge, heavy wooden doors. 

The grounds were immense. Soft, neatly trimmed grass surrounded the entire castle. To the left, I could see the clear, sparkling lake where the giant squid lived. To my right, I could see Hagrid's tiny hut and a bit behind that, the Forbidden Forest, which was an immeasurable expanse of tall, dark trees. The sun overhead shone happily as we talked and laughed on the way to Hargrid's, Harry trailing behind us and keeping unusually silent. 

Finally, we reached the small cabin, which was much taller than it was wide. Harry knocked on Hagrid's door, but there was no answer. He knocked again.

"Oh great," said Ron angrily. "He's probably off with Madam Maxime or something and forgot all about his class."

"Oh Ron, don't be ridiculous!" Hermione said, but her voice sounded worried. Meanwhile, Harry had wandered to the back. 

I didn't even notice he's left until I heard him yell, "It's okay! He's back here!"

We ran to the back of the cabin where there was a large square paddock and a vegetable patch to the right of it. And in the paddock were the most beautiful animals I had ever seen. 

Hagrid, a pudgy man about twice the size of my dad, had a huge tangled mass of dark brown or black hair all over his face. The only part of his head you could see was his nose and a bit of his eyes, but from what I could see, I could tell he was beaming.

"Winged horses!" he said in a gruff but strangely kind and young voice.

At least a dozen of the gorgeous creatures stood in the paddock, pawing the ground anxiously. They were all different colors, shapes, and sizes, each with a large pair of feathery wings. 

"Oh Hagrid!" said Hermione excitedly. She went off on a tangent of how much she had read about winged horses and I just kind of blocked her out. I mean, I liked her and all. I just didn't feel like listening. Instead, I stood up on the fence to get a closer look. There were two colossal palominos that I assumed had come from Madam Maxime, several glossy bays, three prancing gray ones that tossed their pretty heads, a paint, a couple of chestnuts, and even more, each one more beautiful than the next.

I am a total horse fanatic. I take two or three lessons a week, help out at my stable in my few precious minutes of free time, and my dream is to have my own horse. I guess that's why I was always drawn to unicorns. But I loved the Pegasus more than any other mythical creature. 

Before I knew it, I had climbed into the paddock and was stroking a pretty blue roan. 

"Hey!" I heard Hagrid yell, suddenly realizing I was there. "Who's that?" he asked Harry. 

I didn't hear Harry's reply, but I did hear Hagrid roar, "SLYTHERIN! What're yeh doin', hanging around with that crowd?"

Hermione explained something to him and his expression softened, but he still barked, "Yeh better get outta there. They can be dangerous, if yeh don't know how ter handle em."

"Don't worry, er_Professor_ Hagrid! I know how to handle horses." I accented the _Professor_, knowing Hagrid was easily flattered. I could see a tinge of red beneath the hair. 

"Aw, just be careful, then, Ara," he said, then went back to chatting with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. 

I moved down the line to pat each of the horses, stopping for a while at a glistening, spirited back one. But when I reached the end of the line, I found that the last horse was a dull, dusty brown color, and very frail. 

"Ah, don' bother with him. He won' let anyone touch him," said Hagrid. 

"Why?" I called to him.

But Hagrid didn't answer; he was watching the rest of the class walking down the lawn. 

"I don't know why you won't let anyone touch you," I whispered quietly to the winged animal. "I mean, you're so beautiful!" This was an overstatement, but the horse didn't seem to care. 

I ran to the edge of the paddock as the rest of the class approached and I swung my leg over and jumped down. There were many "oooohs" and "aaaahhhs" from the girls, but most of the boys (or Pansy Parkinson) didn't seem to care at all.

"Oh, great! Another large thing to savagely attack me! Thank you so much, Hagrid!" Draco drawled in a bored sort of voice when he saw the winged horses. 

"Maybe if yeh paid any attention yeh wouldn't have that problem," said Hagrid gruffly. Then, to the rest of the class, he called, "Now, these are winged horses, as yeh can all see. They're very powerful, beautiful animals, but yeh gotta be gentle with em. If yeh'll all get inter partners, I'll give yeh one to work with. Firs', I'll have yeh gain their trust by just strokin' em. Then yeh'll feed em, and maybe even yeh'll get ter ride one, if they're in a good mood."

There was some excited whispering. My stomach fluttered. I mean, how many times in your life do you get to ride a flying horse?

Hermione agreed to be my partner and Hagrid led us to the large, gleaming black gelding. His abysmally huge wings (you wouldn't believe how big they were) were folded to his back, but he occasionally spread them out to tell us he was getting bored, at which time we'd scratch him in a different spot. 

The lesson was loads of fun. After everyone had gotten their horse to trust them by petting them, Hagrid brought out several bales of hay and a big bunch of carrots from his garden. Hermione and I took turns snapping off pieces of carrots and offering them to Ebony, as Hagrid called our horse. I showed Hermione how to feed a horse, with your hand flat, and I was proud I knew something she didn't. I mean, Hermione's supposed to be a genius! We figured out that Ebony was very smart, as most horses are, and we taught him to play a game. We would take one piece of carrot and put it in one of our hands, then line up all four hands. Ebony would guess which hand the carrot was in by nudging it with his velvety nose. 

Harry and Ron had been assigned to one of the gigantic palominos, and Ron kept scampering away in fear that he would be stepped on by one of the monstrous hooves. I laughed, but I think I would've done the same thing if I were him. I've been stepped on by normal horses, and let me tell you, it is _painful_. I mean, think about it. There's this huge one-ton animal putting a quarter of its weight on your foot!

I think Hagrid was about to announce that some of us could ride our horses when Neville's suddenly reared up. He turned as white a sheet and ran all the way to the other side of the paddock. 

"There now, it's all right," Hagrid cooed, half to the horse, half to Neville. Meanwhile, Crabbe or Goyle, I'm not sure which, trudged by to get more hay for his and Draco's horse. He was either very fat or very muscular, but not very tall. And he had one of the ugliest faces I'd ever seen. I though he and Pansy Parkinson might make a good couple. 

After grabbing the hay, he was making his way back, but he clumsily tripped over a water bucket on the ground. He made the stupidest noise I'd ever heard. It was really high-pitched, but it was the kind of noise someone makes when they're imitating the school dufus. I mean, he sounded like a wounded elephant or something. 

"What're you doing over there, Crabbe?" I heard Malfoy call from the other side of the paddock. Crabbe made another stupid noise and groped around for something to try and pull himself up. He found the frail, dirty horse that was tethered at the end of the line. He pulled at its mane roughly and it whinnied and tried to rear up.

"Hey, let go of him, you stupid moron!" I yelled. 

But Crabbe just yanked harder. The horse was becoming frantic. And something very strange was happening. Wherever Crabbe's hand touched, a dirty handprint appeared on the horse's already disgusting hair. I didn't think Crabbe's hands could possibly be that gross. 

And he still would not let go. The poor horse was rearing, shaking its head, bucking, and swinging itself into a crazy delirium. By then, the other horses had become excited as well. Others began to rear up and strain against their bonds. Hagrid was busy trying to control them all, so I ran over to Crabbe and tried to pry him off. A crowd was gathering. 

"Let go, you idiot!" I screamed into his ear, so he grunted and _held on tighter!_ I mean, how stupid can you get?! But now, I had noticed something else. The horse's rope was stretching tighter and tighter. And he was raising his immense wings, preparing to take flight. I knew immediately what I had to do. 

"Hermione, Harry, Ron, Draco! Goyle, too!" I shouted over the horse's frenzied whinnies. "Grab onto Crabbe's ankles and don't let go, no matter what!"

"Why? How's that going to help anything?" asked Harry loudly, being an annoying nuisance. 

"Just shut up and do it!" I said through gritted teeth. The rope was about to snap...

"Ok, on the count of three!" I yelled. "Onethree!" 

The five of them dug their heels into the ground and pulled; I grabbed a fistful of mane and heaved myself on the mad horse's back. It happened just in time. The horse took flight, leaving Crabbe back down on Earth and taking me with it. 

It all happened so fast. I threw myself onto his frail neck and closed my eyes so tightly they started to water, gripping the sparse mane in clenched hands. My stomach was doing loop-the-loops, just like when you go upside down on a roller coaster. A harsh wind whipped my hair into my face and I think if I _did_ have my eyes open, I wouldn't have been able to see because my eyeballs would have fallen out. The wings beat rhythmically on either side of me. And I could feel the lanky legs moving below me. All of the muscles beneath me contracted and released with each thrust of the hindquarters. _Muscles?_ I opened my eyes wide enough to squint. 

I wasn't riding the small, starved-looking dirty horse. The mane wasn't scarce and coarse. I was riding the most magnificent creature I'd ever seen. He was a bright, gleaming white and he shone with a beautiful, sunny aura. The mane and tail had streaks of what appeared to be real silver and he had a wingspan of twenty feet, at the least! I looked around me. We were a hundred feet from the ground and he soared easily through the cloudy air. He was breathing hard from the excitement on the ground, but I could tell he was starting to calm down. After about three circles through the air, I wrapped my legs around his middle and pushed forward on his neck. The horse responded by flying downward. 

The descent was thrilling. The wind blew my hair back and my ear popped. We went faster and faster, the wings continued to beat more quickly, but finally, we reached the ground. The horse alighted softly and noiselessly; I hardly even shifted my seat!

The rest of the class stood open-mouthed and awed. I mean, it _had_ been an awe-inspiring performance, if I do say so myself! I dismounted and hit the ground with a thud and stumbled slightly. I looked up. He had to be at least 17 hands now!

"Yeh all righ' there?" Hagrid called, pushing through the students. 

"Yeah," I breathed. "But what happened?"

Hagrid smiled. "That ain't no regular flyin' horse! That's a real Pegasus, they're really rare. And it seems that he's chosen you!"

__

Chosen me?

"What do you mean, chosen me?" I said, confused. 

Hagrid's grin just spread wider across his face and I understood. 

"You mean, he's mine?" My mouth hung open too.

Hagrid nodded. 


	5. Sadie stinks at Charms, Draco is still h...

Sorry this has taken me sooooo long to put out, but Iíve been really busy with play practice and camp, so donít yell at me

This has really taken me forever, but it's finally out! Yes, Aurora de la Noche, it's here! I'd like to say God Bless to all the people affected by the September 11 tragedy. Please enjoy and review!

Sadie Stinks at Charms, Draco is Still Hot, and Harry is a Bad Flying Teacher

Hagrid led Harry, Hermione, Ron, and I into his cabin at the end of the lesson. He first addressed the Potter trio, probably just because he liked them more. Instead of listening to him ask them how their summer holidays were, I let my mind drift into that little world it had been visiting a little too often lately.

It was quite a serious issue that my brain had been worrying about, and even though I'd desperately been trying to push it back, it resurfaced every other minute. What if I was a Mary Sue? I mean, sure, it may not seem like a big problem to you, everyone writes at least _one_ Mary Sue story. But it's really a completely different thing to actually _be_ one. The stupid horse had chosen me as its owner, Hermione, Ron, Draco, and a lot of other Griffyndors and Slytherins already liked me, and I was pretty (not to brag or anything). Sure, I was in Slytherin, but loads of Mary Sues are in Slytherin. I was practically hyperventilating, and it was very difficult to conceal. I mean, I was in the middle of a crisis here!

But I was suddenly brought back to my senses when Hagrid slapped his enormous hand on the table and said loudly, "Yeh're not to go out of the castle without a teacher, and that's that!"

"Hagrid, really, you don't trust us to be able to walk down to your cabin without getting murdered by Voldemort!" Harry whined. Hagrid flinched when he heard the name. 

"Harry, Hagrid's just trying to protect you!" Hermione argued. "He just doesn't want you killed!"

Harry sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Fine." 

_What a loser. _

Hagrid suddenly realized I was still in the cabin. I mean, it only took him ten minutes. 

"Now," he said stiffly, probably still unconvinced of my innocence, seeing as I was in Slytherin. "About that Pegasus. I should've known. He was weak when I found im, think he'd been touched by too many humans. See, Pegasi can only be touched by one person. It's called a Keeper. Yeh're his Keeper. He got stuck in a tree just inside the Forest, all dirty and brown. That's what appens when they get touched too much by the wrong people. They're usually all gleamin' and white, like he is now. He wouldn't let me touch him. That's why he's so thin. He'd hardly eat."

I stared out the window at the beautiful creature standing there. A few minutes ago, he had been frail and disgustingly dirty. Suddenly, I burst out with, "You're joking. This is all some stupid joke."

But I looked into Hagrid's tiny, glistening black eyes and knew it wasn't. 

Softly, he said, "S'no joke. Yeh'll have to come down and feed him and ride him every day, if yeh can."

"I don't need an escort?" I said, knowing that Hagrid didn't give a darn if I got murdered by Old Voldie. Hagrid, in response, became very preoccupied at picking pieces of lint off of his woolly vest. 

"Well," Hagrid said loudly after a moment of silence. "I better give yeh some passes. Who've yeh got next?"

"We've got McGonagall," said Ron. 

"And I have Flitwick," I told him. 

Several minutes later, the four of us were trekking up the small hill that led up to the castle. We remained pretty quiet for most of the way, but halfway up, Hermione broke the silence.

"So, Ara, what are you going to name him?"

I was off in La-La-Land again, and it took me a second to realize she was talking to me. I mean, if you're suddenly given a new name, you don't exactly remember it all the time if you're used to being called something completely different, do you? Well, you don't.

Stupidly, I replied, "Oh, me. Yeah, Sadie. I mean Ara. Ara, Ara, Ara."

All three of them were staring at me as if I had grown an extra head. And I didn't blame them either. I mean, I sounded like some deranged mumbling wombat or something. 

"Sorry. I'm not sure what I'm gonna call him. Can you think of anything?"

Harry looked like he wanted to say something, but Hermione interrupted. Her eyes sort of lit up as she said, "Oh, well there are just so many possibilities! According to Greek legend, Pegasus rose from the blood of Medusa after she had been slain. He could only be harnessed by a golden bridle. So the goddess Athena told Bellerophon, who was a Greek hero, to capture Pegasus and she gave him a golden bridle. When Pegasus was captured, Bellerophon used him to kill the Chimera, a deadly monster. He became so full of himself that he tried to fly Pegasus to Mount Olympus, the home of the Gods and Goddesses. But Zeus, the highest God, sent a fly to sting Pegasus. He threw Bellerophon off and traveled on to Olympus alone where he became Zeus's steed and was immortalized in the stars forever."

"The End," said Ron as Hermione caught her breath. She had said the whole thing kind of fast, and it was really pretty pointless, seeing as I already knew the legend by heart. I mean, the Pegasus is my favorite magical creature, remember?

"So what are you suggesting I call him?" I asked.

Hermione took one last deep breath and answered, "Well, I was thinking something Greek or Roman-ish. You know, like Zeus or something. Or Olympus. Or Odysseus. Or Socrates, Or Circe. Or"

But I cut her off. "What were you gonna say, Scarface?" I asked, referring to Harry.

He scowled, but said just the same, "I dunno, I was thinking of Peggy or something."

"Oh, now that's original," I said sarcastically. 

"Well do _you_ have any ideas?" He spat back, a tinge of red crawling through his skin. 

"As a matter of fact, I do," I said confidently. "I'm going to call him Zephyr."

It was very lucky that I had a pass from Hagrid, because I was even later than I expected I would be. Hermione gave me some very clear instructions on how to get to Charms, but I still somehow managed to get myself lost. I mean, how many statues of Boris the Bewildered can you have in one castle? I came across at least three, none of which were the right landmark Hermione had said to look for. 

And on my way, I also had the pleasure of meeting someone I'd wanted to see for a long time. But upon meeting him, I realized that this wish had been a huge mistake. Floating in midair in front of me, looking incredibly wicked, but yet with a strange playfulness, was Peeves. 

"Oh no," I whispered. Peeves grinned maliciously in response. "No, Peeves, please go away!" Not that I actually expected him to leave. I mean, this is a Hogwarts student's worst nightmare we're talking about here!

Peeves was a funny looking thing. He had a weird-shaped head, kind of football-like. He reminded me of Arnold from the show _Hey Arnold_. He had tousled black hair upon which rested a red and yellow jester's hat, complete with jingly bells. I mean, he was like some overgrown cat toy. Then, he was dressed in a jumpsuit in colors to match the hat, with ruffles at the sleeves. And he had the most evil little grin on his face. He reminded me of a demonic little two-year-old I used to baby-sit. 

"Tut-tut," he said in a high-pitched, elfish voice. "Wandering the halls when you should be in class, are you?"

"_I_ have a pass," I said with the air of a prefect. 

He tutted again, and I noticed he was hiding something behind his back. "A pass does no good" Peeves said, getting ready to drop his bombshell. And drop it he did. From behind his back, his threw at me a full bucket of icy water that I suspected came from the lake and had the fecal matter of a giant squid in it. "When it's wet!" he finished evilly, then sped down the hall, bellowing maniacally with laughter. 

"I hate you!" I screamed down the hall. I mean, the little monster had just ruined my pass! We (the pass and I) were both sopping wet, and I could practically see Hagrid's messy writing dripping off the parchment. Thank God for making Draco. He came strolling down the hall at that moment, cool as anything. I was half torn between relief and horror at the thought of him seeing me soaking wet. 

"Now I know you don't like him, but I don't think Potter can hear you all the way from here. So I don't think it was him you were telling off, was it?" He smirked; I melted. 

"It was Peeves," I muttered, finding my voice. "He dumped a bucket of water and who-knows-what-else on my head and my pass is wrecked. What a stupid, annoying, nasty, ugly, foul" 

"Peeves?" Draco said, pulling the drenched pass out of my hand. "He's a little hard to handle at first, but once you get used to him, he's nothing but a floating, pint-sized prankster. _Seccus_." He pointed his wand at the pass as he said this, and it was instantly dry. I tried not to look too amazed. 

"Thanks," I said. "By the way, why are you out here?"

He jerked his head to get the hair out of his eyes and it glinted in the morning sunlight. "I told Flitwick I needed to go to the bathroom. I figured you might need some help. Guess I was right, eh?"

Handsome _and_ a mind readerhow much better can you get?

"Well, I suppose we had better get to class. We're doing spells that help with household chores. As if I need help in that. Really, has Flitwick ever heard of a little thing called a House Elf?"

When we finally entered the classroom, I saw how tiny Professor Flitwick really was. He was only about four feet. He had a balding head with a few wisps of white hair on top and he was sitting on a pile of books. He was looking quite flustered, most likely because there were mops and scrub brushes zooming all over the room. 

Flitwick yelled quite loudly over the noise, "Now class, please, settle down! Oh, Mr. Malfoy, you've found Miss Stellen. Kindly fill her in. Oh no! Mr. Goyle, please get the dust bin off Mr. Zabini's head!"

Draco and I sat down at an empty table. He pulled out his book from beneath the table and opened it to the page about cleaning charms. 

"Okay, cleaning charms, very useful around the house, blah, blah, blahOk, grasp the mop or whatever firmly in your handthose're over there, leaning against the wall see?" 

I got up and trotted over to where Draco was pointing, dodging a flying bucket of soapy water. These kids were really dim. I mean, poor Flitwick was practically screaming and they still paid no attention at all. What a bunch of imbeciles. 

I made it back to the table without being hit with anything, this time with a mop in my hand.

"Ok, so I'm grasping my mop firmly, now what?" I asked Draco.

He consulted the book for a minute, then said, "You take out your wand, point it to the cloth part" I did it, feeling ever more stupid. I mean, here I was, shoving a stick into a mop and was about to say some magic words. "and you say Nosista Mobilarus."

"Nossita Mablus," I said dumbly. I could feel myself turning red. "Wait, no. It's Nossita Mobilus."

"Nosista Mobilarus," Draco said for me, sounding a little bored. "It's pronounced No-SIS-ta Mobil-ARE-us. Think of no sister.'"

"Nosista Mobilarus!" I cried, finally getting it right. Nothing happened. "Ugh! You stupid mop! _Incendio_!" I said. And immediately after that, I said, "Oops," because stupid me had just set the stupid mop on fire. 

It took a few minutes for me to calm down. Draco had managed to put out the fire, obvious pretty annoyed with me right now, yet somehow still looking incredibly hot in his annoyance. I mean, really, he looks hot all the time. I bet even when he sleeps. 

Anyway, I was just about ready to start working again when dumb little Professor Flitwick announced, "Now, class, settle down. It's time to show us what you've learned. Let's see, we'll have Mr. Zabini first."

Blaise was this really weird kid with shaggy black hair and a sallow face. He looked like a younger, cleaner Snape. And he was always talking about really morbid stuff and writing poetry. I mean, the kid would just burst out sometimes with, "O Brother! Has death reached out to touch your frozen fingertips as it has mine?" From Draco, I learned he had no siblings. What a wacko.

Blaise stepped forward with an ordinary broom (not a flying one), stuck his wand into the end used for sweeping and muttered something in his soft, deep voice. The broom was suddenly zooming around the room as he flung his wand around, trying to control it. When it almost knocked Flitwick out of his chair, he yelled (in quite a loud voice for such a little guy), "FINITE INCANTATEM!"

Blaise just trudged back to his seat, scuffing his shoes on the floor, which is something I hate with a passion.

"I did sooooo bad!" I wailed after class.

"At least you did something. Goyle couldn't even get his to move," Draco answered, not looking at me. 

I knew he thought I had done badly. I mean, the fact that he hadn't made eye contact with me since I sat down from my horrific experience was a clue. That, and the fact that he, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy had been sniggering all through my terrible performance. Here's what happened: Everything was going fine at first. I mean, I held the mop like I was supposed to and everything and I was muttering the words under my breath so I wouldn't forget them. But remember what I said before about never getting nervous? I lied. Because I was so nervous right then for some odd reason that I totally messed up the words to the simplest spell on the planet and ended up saying something like, "Blobba Blab Bloobin" and my hands were shaking and everything was wrong. I mean, I was a nervous wreck. Anyway, "Blobba Blab Bloobin" apparently means something because the mop took off like a rocket and knocked poor little Flitwick off his pile of books. Before I could even apologize, the stupid thing crashed through a closed window and came back through another one at the opposite end of the room. Me, being the idiot I am, just stood there muttering, "Oh no, oh no, oh no" repeatedly until Flitwick regained his posture and squeaked, "_Accio_ mop!" For such a tiny man, he was able to express a lot of anger in his little face.

Lunch was just as extravagant as breakfast and dinner. There were towering plates of every type of sandwich imaginable. There was macaroni and cheese and several kinds of pastas. Deep silver bowls held bananas, apples, and pears and several others held chicken and corn-on-the-cob. And as usual, everything was delicious.

Halfway through lunch, I spied Hermione waving at me from her seat with her fellow Gryffindors. I waved back and then spotted Harry sitting across from her. Suddenly, there were all these mean thoughts going through my head like, _Hmmm, how can I get Harry mad?_ And, _What can I say to insult Potter next?_

I answered my own question when I suddenly shouted to the table, "Hey Potter, you weren't very nice to that great ogre you like to call a friend this morning. Having a bout of PMS?"

Harry seemed rather unfazed (he most likely had no clue what PMS was) but Draco was snorting into his plate. Hermione looked shocked and Ron looked pretty angry. I saw Harry whisper something to him and Ron answered him back, his ears turning a little red. Harry turned red too when Ron was finished; he was most likely defining PMS for his incompetent friend. Now Hermione was giggling at Harry's reaction. 

And where am I in all this? I'm confused. I mean, I just get the urge, out of no where, to scream insults at Harry Potter for the entire Great Hall to hear for no reason in particular. I mean, sure, I don't like the guy but he didn't do anything to me so there was really no reason for me to do something to him. I was acting like Draco. 

But right now, Draco was in tears from laughing so hard. 

"Oh, that was great!" he said to me between gasps. I beamed at him. Okay, so making fun of people does have its rewards. Draco and I were now laughing together. It was music to my ears.

Unfortunately, our fun was ruined when that strict old bat Professor McGonagall walked up to me. For a minute, I thought she had heard me insulting Harry and was about to tell me off. But I noticed that she wasn't looking all that menacing and her mouth wasn't really set into that straight line I'd seen it get when she yelled at people so I let out a sigh of relief. 

"Miss Stellen," she said when she reached me. "It is required for all students to have at least three lessons in broom flight. I have arranged it so that you will have your first flight lesson today at your free period. I believe that's at the end of the day. Now Madam Hooch is busy so I've got Mr. Harry Potter lined up to give you your lesson. Do you know where the Quidditch pitch is?"

I nodded dumbly and she stalked away. I had to put up with that loser by myself for an hour? Judging by the look on Draco's face, he felt as bad for me as I did. I mean, I had just totally dissed the Potter in front of everybody. Surely he wouldn't be that quick to forgive? Then again, he was the famous Harry Potter.

Lunch let out and we headed back to class. I heard Draco mutter to Harry on the way out, "You know, Potter, they make pills for that."

History of Magic was so unbelievably boring that I'm going to have trouble explaining how dull it was. Professor Binns was the first ghost I had seen up close (unless you count Peeves) and he was about as unexciting as his class. He wore unflattering olive green robes and had a short, gray beard. He was balding a little on the top of his head and he had an old, tired-looking face. And he talked weird. I mean, it sounded like his voice was coming out of a record player or something. His entire body was translucent and had a slightly blue tinge to it. And he was boring. 

He rambled on for the whole class about Goblin Rebellions (what a surprise!). I noticed that a couple of people had small pillows tucked into their bags which they pulled out at the start of class. It was miraculous that Binns didn't even notice all the snores echoing through his classroom, but maybe loss of hearing and sight come with being dead. I ended up drifting off about halfway through the lesson. At the end, Draco nudged me awake and I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and walked out with everyone else. 

"That was so interesting. I mean, really, that guy has sucha waywith words," I said between yawns. 

"Father's been trying to get the old man fired for years. He says it's not right for a ghost to teach students. But I've been telling him to stop. Those naps come in mighty handy on a long day," said Draco, grinning. 

I grinned back as we made our way down to the greenhouses for Herbology. 

Herbology wasn't that bad, seeing as I don't really mind working with plants. I mean, sure, there was always the danger of getting your head bitten off by the savage Man-Eating Pricklevine that Professor Sprout kept on her desk, but other than that, it was ok. All we had to do was pick shrivelfigs off the shrivel trees growing behind the greenhouse. These would be used for ingredients in Potions later in the year. 

At the end of class, I was almost enjoying myself when I realized what was next: an hour of watching Potter show off on a broomstick. I bid farewell to Draco, he wished me luck, and I marched to the Quidditch field like a soldier heading into a bloody battle.

Potter was already there when I arrived. 

"You're late," he said shortly.

I went to glance at my watch, but my eyes were met with bare wrist. 

"I'm sorry, Professor Potter, you'll have to write me a tardy slip! I'm late by two minutes!" I said mockingly. I mean, really, who was he to tell me I was late by two minutes?

"Three minutes, actually," he retorted. He just stood there for a minutes.

"Well?" I said impatiently.

The jerk just started walking down the field. I tapped my foot in annoyance until he looked back and said, "Aren't you coming?"

I sat there for a second, thinking of a good come back. It came to me suddenly, as if another voice was speaking in my head: "Oh yay, we get to play sheep! I'll be the lamb, and you'll be Little Bo Peep and I'll follow you everywhere! So much fun!" I giggled and skipped down the Quidditch field. 

My childish skipping ended, however, when Mr. Head met Mr. Pole. I had banged into a huge metal thing! I mean, what is a huge golden metal thing doing in the middle of a field? I looked up and remembered why. The huge golden pole led up to a ring at the top that was about three or four feet in diameter. There were two identical ones beside it and three more at the other end. 

The field was actually quite beautiful. The goalposts shimmered in the late summer light and the soft grass was a vibrant green. Hagrid did a wonderful job with the grounds, but I suspected he never did any of his duties without the help of his trusty pink umbrella.

"Are you ok?" 

I was brought to my senses when Potter asked this very Potter-ish question. I mean, even the fact that I was a Slytherin didn't seem to stop him from playing the hero. I shook my head a little to get the spots of color to go away, then snapped back, "Yes, I'm fine, can we get this over with?"

Harry glared back, then strode purposefully towards the broom shed. 

It was a tiny shed and I didn't know how all the school brooms fit inside. I mean, I still was accustomed to all this magic yet. So I was surprised to find that the shed was split up into five smaller cabinets on the inside that, together, were a lot larger than the tiny shed on the outside. Harry unlocked the shed marked with "Gryffindor" and pulled out a long, shiny handle much like Mary Poppins pulled the tall lamp out of her magic back. 

The Firebolt was beautiful. I mean, you didn't have to know a thing about brooms (which I didn't) to see that. Each twig was exactly the same size and they were sanded to be soft and thin. The twigs were attached to the handle with silver thread. The handle was a dark, shiny wood and the word "Firebolt" was engraved in silver lettering into it. The handle was capped at the end with a little piece of silver or chrome. It was magnificent. 

It was _really_ magnificent compared to the broom Harry handed me. I mean, it was basically the scrap metal of the broom world. It had a rough handle that looked like it had once been painted gold, but most of the paint had chipped off. The handle was scratchy and bumpy underneath. The twigs were large and rough and stuck out at odd angles.

"How do you expect me to ride this thing?!" I yelled at Harry in disgust. "I'm gonna get splinters all over my hands!"

"They all look like that," said Harry defensively, though I seriously doubted they did from the slightly guilty tone in his voice. I just sighed and marched back to the field.

Harry had taught me how to mount the broom (and boy howdy was that hard- swinging your leg over the handle) and we were just getting ready to take off when I felt a sharp pain on the inside of my leg. I had scraped it against the stupid broom handle.

"Ow!" I screeched. "Potter, your stupid broomstick just gave me a legful of splinters!"

"Well that's not my fault!" He yelled back.

Okay, I know it's a lot, but this is another thing that makes me mad: people who deny things they know are their fault. I mean, he had purposely given me the worst broom in the shed and tells me it's not his fault.

"Don't you dare, Potter, don't you dare!" I screamed back. We glared menacingly at each other for a few seconds until I suddenly heard a deep, smooth voice from the corner of the field near the bleachers.

"Ara, is four-eyes annoying you? Because if he is, I can easily knock him off his broom for you."

I was flooded with relief. Draco always seemed to save the day.

"Actually, he is being rather annoying," I said off-handedly as if I had done no more than say the ABC's rather than have a fight with the most famous person in the wizarding world. "He gave me this junk broom and I've got splinters all down my leg now."

He smirked. I loved it when he did that. "I'll give you mine to use. In fact, Potter, you can go play dollies with Weasley now, I'll take over the lesson."

Harry looked mad. "No you will not. Madam Hooch assigned me to teach this lesson, so get your butt off this field, you little swot."

Draco's eyes glinted but he stayed smiling. "I wouldn't say that if I were you, Potter"

"Oh yeah? What are you going to do? You don't have Crabbe or Goyle here to save your neck."

Draco glared.

Harry snarled.

I yelled.

"STOP IT!" I mean, it was nice to have people fighting over me, but I didn't want to be in the middle of a brawl. "You can both teach me."

Several minutes later, I was in the air on Draco's Nimbus 2001. Flying wasamazing and strange and wonderful and hard. It was so _hard_. I kicked off fine, but then just trying to stay balanced was difficult. And I had always imagined that when you flew a broomstick, you felt lighter than air. But it was actually the broom that did all the work. You could still really feel your weight resting on the broom. I liked being on Zephyr better than sitting on this uncomfortable stick trying and nearly failing to keep my balance. 

"Let's try moving, shall we?" said Harry. His teeth were gritted and he was still carefully eyeing Draco, who had borrowed another Nimbus from one of the other Slytherins.

I tried moving. And I shot forward. The broom was zigzagging all over the field like a runaway horse, only ten times faster. And a broom has no reins.

"Stop! Stop!" I shouted. It only zoomed along faster. Now through all this, the wind was practically tearing up my face and I was still having my balance problems. So it really came as no surprise when I fell off my broom. 

When I was finally safely on the ground walking back up to the castle, I was very grateful that both Draco and Harry had raced down to rescue me. It would have been quite funny if I had not been plummeting to my doom because Harry and Draco bumped heads and swore at each other the whole way back to the ground. I wasn't so sure if I wanted to fly for a while.

I couldn't say it wasn't an interesting first day. I mean, I could get used to this! But I reminded myself something that came as both a relief and a disappointment: I most definitely was not a Mary Sue.


	6. Questions, Classes, and Arabella Figg...

I'm trying to get this fic movinglook forward to a little more action in the next few chapters! And I promise to try and be a little faster in getting these out. Please e-mail me with any mistakes I may have made or any suggestions. Thanks for all the reviews and please keep them coming! Here's chapter six!

Question, Classes, and Arabella Figg

I had trouble sleeping that night. I mean, I was in a totally new place, it was freezing, plus I had a lot on my mind. What would you expect to happen? The fire in the little pit had long since died out and I shivered under piles of jade green blankets that didn't seem to be warming me at all. The air was not only cold, but also damp. I would have gotten up and relit the fire, but I seemed to be frozen in one spot. And there was one girl who snoredOh help me, she snored so loud. I mean, it sounded like a freight train was rumbling through the room.

I finally managed to warm up a bit by wrapping myself up in the sheets like a caterpillar in a cocoon, then mummifying myself with three blankets and spreading a comforter over the squishy bulk that was me. Then I got to thinking. 

I think too much. Today, I had said a lot of things without thinking about them, which was one thing that puzzled me. But I thought a lot at night. Even at home, I would just lie there and thinkthink. Have you ever noticed when you say a word too much, it loses its meaning? I think about that. I think about what color the sky is in Malaysia, I think about what I'm going to wear tomorrow, I think about ghosts and dying, I think about Harry Potter. I make up fanfictions in my head. And now that I was in his world, I was really there, I found that I didn't have to think about it. I found myself thinking about home. 

Where was I? Did Sadie Tibbs just disappear? Is my world still there? Where's my house? Have I switched times? Is the real Ara at my own home, looking like me? I finally fell asleep in a dizzy whirl of questions that haunted my dreams.

The next day started perfectly. I woke up ten minutes late because I had no alarm of my own and had no idea how to work the queer ones they provided us with on our little nightstands. So I hurriedly ran downstairs to the Great Hall where things only proceeded to get even better. Pansy purposely spilled the silver jug of orange so it trickled down into my lap. I mean, could she be more obvious? She might have well thrown it at me rather than waste her precious time positioning the jug perfectly and making her fake-sounding little whimpers of surprise to make it seem like an accident. 

After I changed, I was delighted to find that the highlight of my day was up next: Potions. I know of a lot of people who are great lovers of Snape (or as they love to call him, Sevvie). I stooped low enough to love Draco. But Snape? Snape is a nasty, filthy old man. Well, at least that's how I imagined him

He was _exactly _how I imagined him minus a goatee. He was tall with a very prominent nose that looked like an eagle's beak. He was pretty thin, but he wore multiple layers of long, sweeping robes that made him look a lot more menacing. The swishing noise his thin cape made was particularly effective in scaring the first years. His skin was gross. It was dry, saggy, and had a yellowish tinge to it. And his hair! I mean, it looked like an oil tanker had crashed into his head! My mom was always yelling at me on weekends because of _my_ hair. "Sadie, your hair looks like an oil slick!"

Mom, meet Severus Snape. As we walked into the dark, damp dungeon classroom, he gave us this weird look. I couldn't tell if was a sneer or a smile. Perhaps a smile for Snape_ is _a sneer. Either way, with his billowing robes, greasy, jet-black hair, and hooked nose, he was quite an imposing figure. And I don't mean that in a good way.

The dungeon was as freezing as the common room. The walls were dark and cut from rough stones and moisture dripped down them as if the walls themselves were shedding beads of sweat in fear of the Potions master. There were wooden tables that seated two in neat rows around the room, so naturally I took a seat next to Draco. I mean, who else did I know here anyway?

Snape surveyed us like a hawk searching for its prey with his small, black eyes before saying, "Welcome back. I hope I can expect a little bit more hard work from my own house this year than what the Gryffindors have already expressed to me."

His cold eyes darted toward the back corner where a twisted mass of melted, singed pewter was lying on a stool.

"That will stay there this for the whole year as a monument to Neville Longbottom's stupidity," Snape said in his soft, gravelly voice. "The idiot added the ingredients in the wrong order and his robes were splashed with an Erasing Potionyou can imagine the hilarity of _that _situation" The entire class broke out into howls of laughter. Even Snape chuckled; his eyes were glittering madly. 

I had absolutely no clue what was going on. I mean, what was so funny about Neville getting splashed with a Potion? It happened at least once a week.

"What's so funny?" I asked Draco out of the corner of my mouth.

Between chortles, Draco told me, "You see, Erasing Solutions are used for stripping paint off walls, cleaning up spills, removing sticky substanceswell, Longbottom got it on his robes and" he trailed off into another fit of laughter. I thought of Neville standing naked in front of the entire Potions class and I had to laugh too.

"Now, I will be putting the recipe for an Erasing Potion on the blackboard. You will follow the directions _exactly_ as I write them or you will find yourself failing this class on the first day. I will put your solution to the test by pouring some into a few very grimy cauldrons I have collected just for the occasion. You may begin."

It was hard work. I mean, everything had to be measured exactly. There were no graduated cylinders or beakers. We used little crystal phials and scales that took a painstakingly time long to use. And it didn't help that Snape was always breathing down my back. I mean, if this was how he treated his favorite class, how the heck did he treat the Gryffindors?  
Thanks to Draco, I managed to get through the entire class without killing myself or mutilating anything. I mean, don't you think that's a bit of a miracle?

Next we had Transfiguration. It had to be the trickiest class I'd been to yet, even harder than Potions. Firstly, I had no prior experience. I was about on the level of turning needles into needles. Today, we were transfiguring objects to make them alive. I managed to weasel my way out of it by explaining to a very thin-lipped Professor McGonagall that I had no idea what I was doing at all.

After lunch came a class I was looking forward to: Defense Against the Dark Arts. I noticed the newest DADA teacher had not been announced at the feast and we were all curious about who it was. Anyone else who had already had the class refused to tell.

Draco and I walked into the classroom, chatting animatedly. But as we first laid eyes on the teacher, our mouths dropped. I mean, it was rather surprising for everyone. The DADA teacher was a woman. 

Now, I had heard the rumors that in book five there would be a female DADA teacher, but I had begun to completely disregard any previous knowledge about Book Five I had because none of it was coming true so far. But standing in front of us was a tall, slim, seemingly normal witch with a kind smile. She seemed to be about 35 years old. Brownish-red hair fell in little curls around her bony shoulders and she beckoned us to sit down.

"Welcome," she announced, "To Defense Against the Dark Arts. I will be your teacher for the year. You can call me Professor Figg."

The name instantly rang a bell in my mind, but I couldn't remember where I had heard it before. All through the lesson (which was about various hexes and ways to block them) I pondered about the name, getting several nudges in the ribs from Draco for not paying attention. 

But towards the end of class, I finally remembered. "Arabella Figg!" I shouted out stupidly, immediately clapping a hand over my loud and incredibly stupid mouth after I said it. 

The witch turned to face me, but I was relieved to see she wasn't angry. In fact, she was smiling. "Yes, I am Arabella Figg. So you've heard of me?"

I could only gawk.

I welcomed the weekend with open arms. Miraculously, I had managed to live through my first days at Hogwarts. Though I frequently got lost, was scared out of my wits by various sudden appearances by ghosts and other oddities, I found I was getting along okay. I mean, I was living a dream, remember? How bad could it be?

Saturday morning, I got up early and stole down to Hagrid's hut to visit with Zephyr. I found Hagrid outside in Zephyr's paddock, apparently attempting to feed him. The Pegasus was prancing around nervously and any time Hagrid approached, he would toss his magnificent head and whinny shrilly. 

"Hi, Hagrid!" I called, waving. 

Hagrid looked very relieved to see me, which I found rather funny. I mean, here's Hagrid, this huge 11-foot man, afraid of being stepped on by a horse. True, Zephyr was no ordinary horse and I had read that Pegasi have hooves as hard as diamonds, but I giggled just the same. 

"This one's givin' me a load a trouble," said Hagrid gruffly, clambering out of the paddock. He looked like an elephant trying to climb out of a swimming pool. 

"I'm going to call him Zephyr," I announced cheerfully, grabbing the bucket of food in Hagrid's hand and squeezing between the planks of the fence that enclosed the Pegasus.

Hagrid looked on as I stroked Zephyr, who had immediately become calm. His silver-white hair was so soft and fine, like a cashmere sweater. I offered the bucket of food to him and he shoved his nose in, sniffing eagerly, then started eating as if he hadn't in days. Actually, he probably hadn't eaten in days as I hadn't had a chance to come down and visit since the first Care of Magical Creatures Class. 

"You're beautiful," I whispered to him, and he raised his lovely head and gazed at me through his dark eyes from beneath silver lashes. 

I really wanted to ride him again, but I thought it would be better for him to simply rest. I mean, he did still look a bit tired. Hagrid had since retreated into his hut, so I went inside to talk to him.

Fang nearly knocked me over as he came pelting at me when I stepped through the door. 

"'Lo," said Hagrid, not looking up from the potatoes he was peeling. 

I had hoped that by now, Hagrid would have accepted that I was a nice person, even if I was a Slytherin. Apparently, he had not.

"Um" I said uncomfortably. I sort of stared around for a few minutes, then I had a sudden idea. "Hagrid, do you know much about dragons? I mean, do they make good pets? I'm really interested in them."

Hagrid looked up, his small dark eyes shining with interest. "I love ter have a dragon butthey're not reallyPity, though, they're great creatures."

"Do you miss Norbert?" I blurted out stupidly. _No, you idiot! Shut up, shut up, shut up!_

"How d'you know about Norbert?" said Hagrid suspiciously.

"Uuuhhh.Hermione told me" I started inventing a story. It was rather difficult. I mean, I'm rather bad at lying. But suddenly, something in my brain clicked and the story flowed right out. "Hermione told me about him when I asked about dragons. She didn't know too much about them and she told me to ask you."

The lie had come so easily and I knew my voice had changed when I said it. Something strange was definitely going on with me.

Hagrid, however, didn't seem to notice at all and was much warmer to me after the mention of dragons. We talked animatedly for almost an hour, at the end of which I bid farewell to Zephyr, Hagrid, and Fang and walked back up to the castle. 

Draco was waiting for me in the common room.

"Where've you been?" he asked, with a note of suspicion.

My voice took on an icy tone again and I answered quickly and automatically, as if the words were being pulled from my mouth. "Why do you want to know? I've been down at Hagrid's with my Pegasus. What're you, my mother? You need to know everywhere I go?" I glared at him, realized what I had just said, and snapped to my senses. I turned red and muttered a nearly silent, "Sorry."

Rather than looking taken aback, Draco looked impressed. He surveyed me with his cool gray, half-lidded eyes, then said, "All right, then," and stalked off.

I went down to my dormitory. None of the other girls were there, but I pulled the emerald curtains around me as I flopped down on the bed. I mean, I just didn't feel like talking to anybody at the moment.

What was happening with me? I mean, I didn't just get these sudden urges to be mean to people for no reason. I thought hard. What ifwhat ifWhat if Ara was slowly but surely taking over my mind as well as my body? I shook away the awful thought, but I knew that it might be possible. 

I sighed, put my head on the soft pillow, and closed my eyes. Before falling asleep, I remember hearing one thing in my mind: "I'm here and you know it."

Please review with any comments, complaints, or suggestions, but be nice! Things get VERY interesting in chapter 7!


	7. Sadie Gets Comfy, Ara Takes Over, A Shoc...

A/N: Hey, Mrs. Norris here, with the next installment of "When Something was Different", affectionately dubbed, "WSWD". A big thanks goes out to I.C. Fire (RaineStark on Instant Messengeryou've been mOOFed!) and my dearest cousin Maggie a.k.a. Margo, Magrat, Maggot, etc. You guys STILL continue to read this story, though it seemed everyone else has gotten sick of me taking ten years to get out each chapter..sorry, my dude-men, but I am a very busy person! And the funny thing is, I already have the sequel plannedYES! THERE IS A SEQUEL! MWAHAHAHHAHA! Perhaps even a trequal but let's not get too ambitious now. MWAHAHHAHAHHA. ::Ahem:: Well, on with the show!

Ah, yes, I have also realized after re-reading them several times how incredibly horrible the other 6 chapters arewell, the first 5, anyway. They are very badly written, in my opinion, but I don't have time to re-write them all soI'll just be improving in future chapters, k? K.

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When Something was Different

Chapter 7: Sadie Gets Comfy, Ara Takes Over, A Shocking Revelation, and Death Eaters Galore

The weeks began to pass surprisingly quickly after I got through that first one. I mean, it hadn't been all that dreadful, but it wasn't the most enjoyable week I had ever experienced. Through September and October I got to know Draco and Hermione better, even though I couldn't convince Hermione that Draco wasn't all bad, nor could I convince Draco that Hermione wasn't all that bad.

Draco waswell, Draco was Draco. He was very elusive and almost mysterious and I learned next to nothing about his life at home or his family. He had a way of hiding his emotions easily behind his lazy, half-lidded eyes and almost constant smirk. And he was never without a sarcastic comment or rude remark. Ever. But despite all that, just looking at him made the insane crush I had on him even stronger.

Ron never paid much attention to me; he seemed torn between wanting to be my friend (I got the feeling Hermione was constantly belittling him to actually get to know me) and wanting to be my enemy because of his intense dislike of Slytherin.

My relationship with Harry, however, was an odd one. I admit that he's not really as bad as I make him out to be, but he is still quite without much personality. He often reminds me of a slug. But I also think Harry keeps a lot of his emotions insidehe's too proud of a person to display them openly. Draco is the same way. However, though I didn't exactly hate Harry or even dislike him (I was more or less indifferent toward him), I still was constantly throwing rude insults in his direction. Perhaps I picked it up from Draco. I mean, I have never met anyone in my life with more sarcastic and often witty remarks. Perhaps I had the inner urge to upset Harry just to impress Draco. But I ended up coming to another conclusion.

I came to the conclusion that Ara Stellin was taking over my mind.

It does sound like a rather odd concept when you just say it like that. But in the complete insanity of the statement, I sort of found that it was the most logical reason that I was blurting out with strange insults at people, and my personality was slowly being completely changed. Believe it or not, I later found further evidence to back up my theory

I made my way down to Hagrid's hut on a foggy Saturday morning in mid-October to pay a visit to Zephyr. I mean, the poor thing must have been very lonely when I wasn't around; no one else could touch him if I wasn't there. I was surprised to see that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were already there, standing at Hagrid's doorstep waiting to be let in.

The familiar, uncontrollable urge to insult Harry overcame me. It would have helped if I had some good insults, but unlike Draco, they weren't my strong point. All I could come up with was, "Well if it isn't Mr. Potty. Such a surprise to see you up so early in the morning, I always thought you stayed up late to play with your dollies."

Hermione pursed her lips in irritation; Ron's ears went red as he turned angrily towards me. Harry merely glared and said softly but audibly, "I'd rather play with dolls than a Slytherin"

I shrugged and answered, "Well I'm not the one who can talk to snakes."

I felt like slapping myself. I mean, you'd think I'd learn to keep my fat mouth shut and stop revealing how much information I knew.

Ron stepped in front of Harry defensively. "How do you know Harry's a Parselmouth?"

I covered for my mistake. "Hard not to, isn't it? Everyone in the school knows, Potter, don't begin to think it's a big secret."

"Oh, hello, Hagrid!" said Hermione loudly, obviously wanting to avoid an argument. Hagrid stepped out of his cabin. 

"Hello, Harry, Ron, Hermione." He spotted me on the ground and shouted, "'Lo, Ara!"

I waved back. "Hi, Hagrid."

"Come inside?" Hagrid asked, addressing all of us.

"I'll just stay out here, but thanks anyway," I said pleasantly. I mean, I had no reason to be rude to Hagrid as well. Well, I had no reason to be rude to Harry either, but it just tended to work out that way; Harry was the only one I was ever blatantly rude to. Well, aside from all the other people I was blatantly rude to.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stepped inside Hagrid's cabin; Hermione gave me a reproving look, but still waved. I mean, I didn't blame her. I was always insulting her best friend. I was surprised she still wanted to hang around with me anyway.

I made my way around to the back of Hagrid's hut where Zephyr stood expectantly at the edge of the paddock. He had heard my voice; he always knew when I was coming from the time I left the castle. Hagrid had long since gotten rid of the other winged horses. The Palominos had been returned to Madame Maxime and the others had gone back to wherever Hagrid had gotten them from, he never told me.

Zephyr was a truly magnificent animal. His coat shone like mother-of-pearl and the silver flecks in his mane and tail glinted in the sun like tinsel. He was positively huge; when I rode him, I needed Hagrid to lift me up onto his back. Hagrid had fixed up a crude, but nonetheless effective bridle. A regular one wouldn't have fit his head anyway. The bridle had no bit, which I liked better because I knew I would never be pulling on Zephyr's mouth. 

"Hey Zephie," I cooed softly as I swung under the bottom panel of the fence and into the paddock. I had dubbed him with several odd nicknames, Zephie included. I mean, everyone has some strange things they call their pets. 

I stroked his muscular neck lovingly and he sighed in content. 

"I can't ride you just yet, Hagrid's inside chatting it up with old Scarface. OhhhhSTOP IT, SADIE!" I whispered loudly and furiously to myself. I mean, I couldn't even stop myself from insulting Potter while talking to a horse.

"And here I was thinking his name was Zephyr," said a cool, mellifluous voice from behind me. _Oh God, go away Draco._ It seemed he would either choose the perfect time or the perfectly wrong time to talk to me. It also seemed he had ears that could hear anything.

Ara's voice clicked in automatically. "Mental relapse," I said, grinning. "Clumsy brute stood on my foot, didn't you boy?" I patted his head, harder than I would have normally. 

I noticed Draco was staring at me. Of course, I was standing next to a rare mythical creature, but that wasn't the reason. He had been staring at me a lot lately, and I figured now was a good a time as any to ask him why.

"Um, not to sound weird or anything, but why are you always staring at me?"

"Well, aside from the fact that you are a rather attractive girl," He began as I blushed, "You look familiarbut I just can't remember who you look like" He squinted slightly and cocked his head to one side, causing his hair to flop into his eyes.

"Now I remember!" he said suddenly, snapping his fingers. I emerged from my drooling stupor; I had been gazing at his gorgeous face with rapt attention. "You're parents were Death Eaters! Oh, you look exactly like your mother."

__

What?! 

What?!

"What?!" I said loudly.

"Oh come on, no need to deny it, we're both on the same side. I'm not about to go leaking it everywhere. How could I be so stupid? The Stellens were two of the greatestthey worked in his top-secret league, I suppose that's why I didn't recognize the name right away, but I've heard my father talk about them several times. Most likely why they raised you as a Muggle, so you could carry on the family legacy after they were gone, without anyone bothering you about it.they must've known they would die in the end, not to sound awful, Ara, sorry about that, but they killed a lot of people. So I'm guessing you're coming to the meeting tomorrow?"

Ok, what? I mean, I had absolutely no clue whatsoever what was going on here. Ara's parents were death eaters? Meeting? What meeting? And suddenly something in my stupid, Ara-taken-over brain clicked in again and I was suddenly realizing that yes, of course I was going to attend the secret Death Eater meeting which would be taking place in the Forbidden Forest tomorrow.

And my read brain was just very confused, but I said just the same, "Of course, care to be my escort, as it sounds like you're going as well?"

Draco grinned in a proud sort of way. "Yes, father's finally decided I'm mature enough. Of course, you can't get the Mark until you're 17, but apparently you're allowed to go to meetings and do all sorts of deliciously evil things so I don't really see the point of that. I suppose it's to prove that you're an adult and all and can make your own decision and blah, blah, blah."

He crossed his arms, giving me a weird look because I had slumped back into a shocked stupor. It looked as though he was about to say something, but Potter and his crew had just emerged from Hagrid's hut, laughing about something. 

Draco began to walk towards the castle once he spotted them, but turned back for a moment and leaned towards me. "See you tomorrow night then," he whispered, his lips wonderfully close to my ear, so close I could feel his hot breath being expelled with each word. Then he silently pivoted on his heel and swept back up to the castle. I felt ready to faint.

The rest of the day passed far too quickly, and the night seemed to be eons long. I had a lot of trouble sleeping; my stomach was either sick with horrible anxiety, or, when Ara decided to invade my body entirely, it would become happily excited. It was an awful feeling either way. 

And yet, once I woke up, Sunday passed even more quickly than Saturday had. I paid a brief visit to Zephyr (I mean, it was actually three hours long, but it felt like three minutes), did the small amount of homework the teachers had given us for the weekend (actually, it was a yard-long Transfiguration essay, a complicated Potions recipe we needed to complete, and a star chart for Astronomy), and the next thing I knew, Draco and I were sitting in the Common Room, waiting for it to clear out.

"Why aren't Crabbe and Goyle going to this?" I asked, something I had been thinking about. The two goons had just gone to bed, giving me the opportunity to ask the question.

Draco stretched out his long legs onto an ottoman and crossed them lazily. "Ah well, we all know they're not the sharpest sticks in the pile, that's for sure. And their parents have about the brains of a dead mountain troll, I suppose stupidity runs in the family. So I'm guessing the Dark Lord isn't quite ready to take them on quite yet if he's had to deal with Crabbe and Goyle Senior. But you wait, he'll have them when they're big enough. Bit like a farmer getting ready to slaughter his pigs, isn't it?"

Draco gave a short, rather cruel laugh and closed his eyes, smirking.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, confused.

Draco laughed again, mirthlessly. "You know as well as I do that the only thing useful about those idiots is their strength. By the time they're as big as their fathers, which shouldn't be long now, the Dark Lord will be stamping the Mark on their arms before you can say Quidditch. He doesn't want them for their brains, he wants them for their muscles."

I looked at him sharply, but he didn't open his eyes. "Then why are you friends with them if they're so stupid?"

He opened his eyes and stared at me, laughter in his face. "For the same reason the Dark Lord is, Ara, didn't you get any of my little speech?"

I blushed a little. "Well, I mean, I thought that was just referring to Voldemort." Draco didn't flinch at the name but his eyes, usually so unreadable, widened slightly. "Besides," I continued. "I think that's a pretty shallow reason to be friends with someone. Just so you can have someone to beat up your enemies."

He leaned back in his chair again, but he didn't close his eyes. He just stared at me. "My father has taught me a lot of things. And one of them is that you don't need friends to get things accomplished. If you want something done right, you do it yourself, haven't you ever heard that expression? I say it applies to your whole life. That's where Potter's got it all wrong. He totes those two losers around with him everywhere when he could be out doing something important."

Something inside me snapped, and it wasn't Ara. Something about what Draco had just said made me very angry. I mean, it was like when people at school made fun of me for liking Harry Potter, or if they called it stupid or something like that.

"Something _important?!_" I said, almost yelling. I was about to say, "Like what? Become a Death Eater?" but like always, trusty Ara decided to pop right into my head.

"Oh, never mind," I said suddenly. "Look, everyone's cleared out, we can leave now."

Draco looked around, just to make sure, then offered a hand to help me from my seat. I took it, my anger subsiding into pleasure as my feet were reduced to mush. 

Just as we were heading out of the common room several moments later, I suddenly remembered something.

"I'll be right back," I said to Draco, holding up one finger and then rushing down to my dormitory. I quickly rummaged through my things as quietly as possible until I found the invisibility cloak.

"Will this help?" I said, holding it up for Draco to see once I arrived back upstairs.

He stared at it with a mixture of envy and awe. "Where did you get that?" he said, almost suspiciously. "Expensive, those things. And rare. My father won't even buy me one."

I smiled, pleased. "My parents gave it to me for my fifteenth birthday." I flung it around our shoulders, got it hopelessly tangled like some poor incapable idiot, then straightened it and enjoyed the feeling of being so close to Draco our shoulders touched.

In silence we crept from the room and into the corridor, me praying the whole time that I didn't step on Draco's foot and hoping desperately that we didn't run into Peeves or Mrs. Norris.

We reached the great oak doors unharmed and undiscovered. Once we had pushed them aside, nothing but the pristine Hogwarts night stood before us. The dark green grass shone with delicate, crystalline patterns of dew. The crescent moon cast an eerie silver light over the grounds, which would have normally been very beautiful, but under the circumstances

We walked, still silent, and even though I was invisible I could feel the dampness soaking through my shoes and the cold, wet edge of the cloak occasionally whipped against my ankles. The forest, black and ominous, was drawing ever closer. It was lit only by thin rays of moonbeams that hardly skimmed the few leaves left on the trees before they were scattered into the darkness. A feeling of foreboding coursed through my body as we stepped into the woods. 

I mean, what was I getting myself into? This was crazy! I would just turn back nowbut Ara refused to let me. 

I felt a sudden breeze as Draco removed the cloak from our shoulders. I wished I had worn another cloak beneath it because the chilling air was contributing even more to the collection of goosebumps rapidly spreading over my body. I matched Draco's long-legged stride as best as I could, but I still found it difficult to keep up . 

"Hold on," I said breathlessly.

"We'll be late," he reminded me.

"I know, I just want to get out my wand."

Draco's was already lit, creating a soft, comforting glow amid the blackness.

"Lumos," I whispered once I had my wand out. The stupid thing decided to be fickle and not light. I had to wave it several times before it eventually started emitting the same warm light that Draco's did, and I nodded to him to signal we could go on.

We traveled quickly and noiselessly, deeper and deeper into the forest. I eventually felt the need to break the silence.

"Sowho's attending this little soirée?" I said.

"All the Death Eaters," he said, quite simply.

I sighed in annoyance...or was that a sigh from Ara? "I mean, which ones?"

"Don't you know any of them?" He kept his eyes straight ahead.

"Wellthere's Wormtail, Crabbe, Goyle" I began, ticking them off on my fingers. "UmAvery, Nott, McNairyour dad, of course." My mind was drawing a blankweren't there more?

"Those are just the inner circle," he said, as if reading my mind. "There's over a hundred of them, actually."

"Oh," I answered. Then there was quiet again.

After several more minutes of this awkward lull, I asked, on a sudden whim, "Draco, do you love your father?"

He stopped in his tracks completely. I had obviously bewildered him, but it was a question that had been seriously nagging me for quite some time. I mean, half the fanfictions involving Draco talk about them having a hateful relationshipDraco being beaten or whipped. It was too easy an explanation for his behavior, in my humble opinion, and I wanted to know the truth.

"Of course I do," he said, staring at me. "Why do you ask?"

"I-I-Iwell, I just thought" I trailed off. 

"You just thought what? The Dark Lord's army isn't allowed to have feelings?" He said this almost spitefully.

"No! I just wasn't sure what kind of relationship you had with himyou never talk about him or anything so"

"Well I love him."

There was yet another uncomfortable silence, which I was about to break with an apology, but Draco beat me to it.

"There's a kind of unconditional love thing between us. He's not home a lot, so he buys me things. He's not there to show me how to play Quidditch, so he buys me brooms. He wasn't ever there to read to me when I was a kid, so he bought me books. I've got an entire library of books at home. We're not an inseparable father-son-team, believe me, but we have a bond. A really strong one."

I looked at him. It seemed as if he had been waiting to tell someone thiswaiting long enough so that he had someone he thought he could trust. He trusted me, but I felt horriblebecause I didn't even trust myself. I wanted to say something, to tell him, "Stop! Don't tell me anything else! I'm not who you think I am!" but no sound would come out of my mouth and we fell still again.

We walked without a word, me gazing down at the ground, which was a tangle of tree roots, pine needles and hard-packed dirt, while Draco just stared ahead. Suddenly, I felt his arm fling out across my chest. I snapped my head up.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

We stood in a very small clearing with two nearly identical trees in the center, between which we were just about to pass.

"Watch," he said quietly.

He picked up a large stick from the ground and tossed it into the space between the two trees. There was a bright spark and the sudden smell of burning wood as the stick passed the trees. It was instantly reduced to ashes.

"It does that to humans, too," he told me, staring grimly at the stick's pitiful remains.

"So how do we get by?" I asked, getting more nervous. I mean, there was no obvious way out of the clearing; it was densely surrounded by huge trees and briar bushes. The only apparent trail was the one straight ahead of us, which passed through those evil trees, and the one by which we had gotten to the clearing.

"There's a password," Draco said, stepping right up to one of the tall-thin trees. "Eid Sdoolb Dum!" He told the tree forcefully.

"Eyed stoolb dumb?" I asked, confused. Was it some kind of Latin?

"It's 'Mudbloods die' backwards," he said, and grinned at me. Inwardly, I cringed. Ara just grinned right back.

"So we can get through now?" I said.

"Hopefully," said Draco nonchalantly, as if he were about to do no more than than tie his shoes.

"You do realize you're risking death by being burned to a crisp by killer trees cursed with Dark Magic?" I reminded him.

"Mmm hmm," he answered, and walked right between the trees, completely unharmed. "You say the password now."

I groaned, said the odd words, held my breath, and closed my eyes. When I opened them, I had walked four feet and was now standing beside Draco, out of any danger of being killed.

"All right?" he asked.

"All right," I replied, still a bit shaken, but I began to follow him along the path again just the same. 

It wasn't long until we reached another clearing. Draco told me to stop, and I did so very suddenly, which made him laugh at me.

"Nothing's going to hurt you in here," he told me reassuringly, still chuckling a bit. I felt my face flush and I was finally glad for the darkness. "I'm just looking for the Portkey, it'll take us straight to the meeting from here."

He began to scan the ground with those beautiful silvery eyes, and I followed suit, though I didn't see the point. I mean, how were we supposed to find anything in the utter blackness, even with the feeble light of our wands?

Apparently Draco didn't have the same negative attitude I did because I heard almost instantly, "Got it!" I rushed over, following the light of his wand.

He stood by an immense tree, which was covered in velvety moss.

"Where is it, then?" I asked, an impatient edge to my voice (no doubt Ara sneaking in).

"Right there," he said, pointing one of his long, delicate fingers to a something small and silver embedded in the tree's bark. I looked closer and saw that it was a charm in the shape of a serpent. "Ok, we both touch it on three. Onetwo...three!"

I brushed a single finger to the snake and felt something pull in my stomach, like I was suddenly being grabbed by some organ in my digestive tract and being tossed into oblivion. It wasn't a pleasant feeling. I closed my eyes against the rush of wind that was hitting me.and then I felt my feet touch solid ground. 

I opened them tentatively. We stood in the middle of another clearing, this one much larger, and with a roaring fire that I could feel behind me. I could also feel a hundred eyes on mewe were surrounded by hooded figures that stood around the edge of the clearing, dark and menacing: Death Eaters.

And I felt another pair of eyes on medifferently than those of the Death Eaters. The gaze felt piercing

I looked up and straight ahead of me and nearly screamed at the sight that met my eyes. 

_Lord Voldemort._

Yes!!!! Hanger of the Cliff, baby!!!!!! At least I finally got it done. Well, like I said.this one's for Maggot! And I just realized something.I've been working on this story for about a year now. Isn't that sad? Almost a year and it's only chapter seven.oh well. I WILL FINSIH IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hoo boy. Hahaha, as you can guess, spell check does not like me very much.

--Mrs. Norris


	8. Ara takes over some more, Voldie is real...

OK folks, this is the REAL chapter 8 of WSWD. I've been writing this bloody thing for over a year and it's not going very well.I almost want to give up and just go straight to the sequel, which is almost entirely through the planning stage. I love the sequel to pieces. And it's not even written yet! The trequal is also in the works. Gah. Well, do enjoy. Things start getting' a bit more gruesome here. Lucky you.

NOTICE: I am looking for an artist to illustrate this fic! Any artwork you could do would be greatly appreciated! I would place links throughout the chapter! It would be a good way to gain traffic to your site or gallery, so make note of it! I'd do it, but I don't have the time or creativity. Plus I'm lazy. Please e-mail me at comet_wolf_56@hotmail.com with any work you do and I will definitely link you, no matter how crappy it is (tee-hee)! Have fun drawing!

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When Something was Different

Chapter 8: Voldemort is an Evil Guy, Draco is an Evil yet Sexy Guy, and Rabid Hellhounds are a Good Touch When Using Graphic Imagery

His face was pure, bright white, as if his skin was transparent and you could see straight to the bone beneath. It seemed like he had somehow lost all the cartilage in his nose because it was small and flat, with two slits for nostrils. He also had a flat mouth, which smiled a horribly wicked smile at me, and his large, slanted eyes, which were the brightest scarlet I'd ever seen, stared into my skull. I was afraid he might be burning a hole.

"Welcome, Young Miss Stellen," the Dark Lord said in a voice that seemed to be dripping with venom. It sent a chill through my body and made me tingle. Soft, and deadly-sounding.It made me think he was going to kill me even though he was welcoming me. I stared back at him as bravely as I could, but I nearly quailed under the gaze he was sending me.

"Your parents," he continued, "Were among my closest and most faithful supporters. Few other Death Eaters even knew of them. Yet they assisted in some of my greatest plots and murdersand they instantly returned to my side when they heard talk of my return. They, however, had but one weakness. _You_."

I sharply took in a breath, willing myself not to cry, not to be a stupid baby. But it was so hard.

"They had always protected you, raised you like a common muggle, so you would not be in danger of being killed. Our world can be a messy little place, can it not, Miss Stellen?"

I gulped back tears while the Ara part of me simply nodded.

"But they had pledged you to me. Your service was already mine from the day you were born. And when they were finally discovered and killed by Aurors, I had some influential members at the Ministry tell everyone that you had grown up without any idea of your parents' loyalty to me, when you had really known all along."

At this, he looked over at one of the Death Eaters and smiled. The shadowy face beneath the hood was recognizably Lucius MalfoyI had seen pictures of him in the Daily Prophet for Ministry work. I took the opportunity to glance at Draco, who had trayed away from me and now stood close to his father. He was staring down at his feet, not moving. I wanted him to see me, to see how horrible this was for me, to take me away. I snapped my head back to Voldemort, however, as he began to speak again.

"Such fools the Ministry harborsthe idiots at Hogwarts were even easier to convince. As I always say, decent people are so very easy to manipulate." He smiled wickedly at this, and several of the Death Eaters laughed in a forced-sounding way.

"Now, my dear, your parents have left you in my care. When you are old enough, you will have the honor of becoming a part of my prestigious..Inner Circle, as I have heard it called. You, as you have joined the wizarding world, are entering my service as my gracious supporter. I ask you now to bow before your master."

I blinked, realizing I hadn't done so in several minutes. What was I supposed to do? I mean, he didn't actually expect me to bow, did he? Like some kind of servant? The muscles of my body were tensing with the signals from Ara's mind, but I didn't want to bow. I didn't want to humiliate myself for that, not for someone I had despised since I was nine years old. 

"No," I said.

"No? I'm afraid that's not a suitable answer. Let me try again. Bow to your master!" he hissed.

Rage was building in my chest.rage at the fact I had no control over what was happening, rage over the fact that Draco wasn't defending me at all, rage at the fact I had been dropped into this stupid world without any way of escaping

"NO!" I yelled, so vehemently and forcefully that several birds took off from a nearby tree. 

"Dear, dear," Voldemort began, in an oddly soft voice. "I thought your parents had told you to obeyno matter, you will learn quickly enough. _Cruio!"_

And he directed his wand at me.

There are many different kinds of pain. Have you ever noticed? I mean, the pain of scraping your knee is different than the pain of burning a finger on the stove. There's the pain of a stomachache, the gross crampy pain you get after a lot of sit ups, the feeling you get when you stub your toe, the numbing cold pain you get when you hold an ice cube for too longthen there's types of pain that you probably haven't experienced but can most likely imagine. Like the pain of a flaming iron rod being driven through your gut. Or, a little closer to home, the pain of breaking every bone in your body. 

Now, if you will, imagine all of these different types of pain happening at onceall over your body. Even inside your body. Inside your nose, under your gums, beneath your eyelids.everywhere. Then multiply that pain by 100.

That's the Cruciatus Curse.

All I remember was falling over the instant it began, because I couldn't take the pain. I wasn't really aware of how I was moving. All I could think of was the horrible, all-consuming pain. It seemed to last forever, even though it was only about 20 seconds. Those 20 seconds nearly killed me. All I could see were occasional bright splotches of red, black, and white. My mind was wiped completely blank of any thought, except for _Let me die now_. 

When those agonizing 20 seconds were finally over, the pain didn't exactly end there. My body threw itself into mad convulsing spasms, and I threw up at least once. I was left with an odd aching, tingly sensation, such as the one you get when your foot falls asleep, only this was all over my body, like the pain had been. An immense headache was throbbing in my temple. I couldn't move at all, not even when the spasms subsided. Colors and shapes were coming back into focus, but I didn't want to look at any of the Death Eaters. They were all smiling. I noticed Draco, who was staring in horror-stricken surprise. I just wanted him to stop. I wanted all of it to stop.

Finally, after what seemed like ten awkward, embarrassing minutes, 

Voldemort (who had been grinning) said to me, "Rise." 

On trembling legs, I did as I was told. Even without Ara's nagging commands in the back of my head I think I would have stood then. I stumbled a bit, but I was determined to stay standing.

"Bow."

And I did bow, but I kept my eyes on his face the whole time.

"Good girl." 

A tear slid out just then, but I had time to wipe it; The Dark Lord had turned away from me to motion the other Death Eaters to sit upon fallen logs that had been arranged in a circle around the fire.

I sat beside Draco, who didn't even acknowledge my existence. I nearly hated him just then.

For the next half hour, things swam in and out of focus. I couldn't see or hear straightevery few minutes I nearly blacked out. I knew it couldn't just be the after effects of the Curse. I realized how quickly my heart was hammering at my ribs, and concluded that it must just be the fear. I was more afraid then than I have ever been in my life. I thought I could be brave like Harry had been. I guess I was wrong.

I finally managed to shake off the cloud of unconsciousness that kept trying to descend upon me. My vision was getting clearer, as was my hearing. My headache was slowly subsiding as well.

Voldemort was addressing an individual Death Eater on the other side of the circle, so I took the opportunity to tap on Draco's shoulder.

"What have I missed?" I whispered to him.

"You've been here the whole time."

"If you haven't noticed, I've sort of been dying for the past half hour."

"Oh. Well he's just been telling people their assignments and stuffnothing exciting. He's making an announcement in a minute. Don't black out again or anything."

Stupid insensitive jerk.

Voldemort finished his business with the other Death Eaters fairly quickly, then turned again to face the circle. 

"Now," he said, in his sinister hissing voice. "To the matter of the Ultimate Monster."

The Death Eaters were staring at him with rapt attention, apparently understanding what he was talking about. I was clueless.

"As I have already told you, to create the beast we are in need of a Pegasus, its Keeper, and of course the Malum Opprimo documents. You, Malfoy, and you, Avery," Voldemort nodded at the respective Death Eaters, "Are in charge of obtaining the documents. Everything is going smoothly, I assume?"

"Yes, my Lord," they each said in low, differential voices.

"Good. Now, for the matter of the Pegasus." He turned and looked at Draco and myself. My stomach lurched.I had a very bad feeling about this.

"It is to my understanding that Rubeus Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, has come into the possession of a Pegasus, which he merely thinks is a common winged horse. Last we checked, its Keeper had not yet been discovered. Your duties are to find the Keeper of the Pegasus and report the name to Lucius Malfoy, who will relay it to me. We willdeal with this person until the Pegasus is turned over to the Dark Side.It is merely your responsibility to be sure the Keeper is discovered." 

He smiled in that awful twisted way again. 

__

Crap.

It was a good thing I looked at Draco at that moment because he had just opened his mouth to rat me out. Before he could utter a sound, I stomped down on his foot _hard_. 

It was also a good thing Voldemort had turned to answer a question from another Death Eater, because Draco made a scene.

"What the _hell_ was that for, Ara? Good Lord, that hurt!" He hissed, clutching his foot.

"Sorry," I whispered, though I wasn't sorry at all. "I just don't think it's a good idea to tell him yet."

"How do you figure that?" he said coldly, now massaging his injured toes.

"Well" I needed some dumb excuse. "WellI want Zephyr to bond with me morebecome more trusting. Then it will be very easy to get him to do what we want!"

"Well you can't wait that long. He'll find out, and then you'll be in huge trouble."

The conversation was quickly ended, when Voldemort stood in front of us again.

"This has been a successful meeting. I will see you all in one week from now. The children need not be present at meetings until further notified. Goodnight."

The roaring fire went suddenly black with a wooshing sound. I saw a short man scurry over to Voldemort and as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I realized it was Wormtail. But I just looked awayI couldn't take any more of this. I just wanted to go back my dormitory and sleep.

Draco spoke with his father for a moment, said goodbye, and walked over to me. 

"Shall I walk you home?" he said, resuming his charming manner.

"Whatever," I said moodily, not taking the arm he offered me.

We had taken another Portkey back to the original path and were making our way quite steadily before Draco attempted to speak to me again.

"Are you ok?" he asked, almost timidly.

I stopped right where we were and looked at him. The bright moonlight reflected off his hair and his eyes, making them almost sparkle. For some stupid reason, it made me even more angry just looking at him. 

"Yes, I'm just peachy. I've had the Cruciatus Curse put on me, and it's not really all that painful at all, it's more like a pleasant tickling sensation. Then I had to sit through that absolutely _lovely _meeting. Those Death Eaters are just so cheerful. And Voldemort, what a friendly guy! I love the way he just stares at me like he wants to kill me, chop me up into little pieces and feed me to rabid Hellhounds!!!" I screamed the last sentence and began walking fast down the path.

"So all in all you had a good time, I'm guessing?" He called after me. I refused to answer. But then I heard his ever-persistent footsteps running behind me and again he was at my side.

"You're good with the graphic imagery thing. The rabid Hellhounds really were a nice touch."

"Just leave me alone."

"Have I ever told you you're a happy ray of sunshine that brightens my life?"

"Go away."

"Come on, I know it's hard being around someone as perfectly gloomy as me, but I'm sure you can cope."

I picked up a stick off the ground. "Malfoy, if you do not leave me alone I am going to take this stick and shove it so far down your throat you will feel it come out the other side. Then I will dig out your liver, and force endless Martinis on you until you die a long and intoxicated death."

"Well at least I won't remember any of it, will I? I personally think it's kind of you to get me wasted before I die."

"You're impossible," I groaned.

"No I'm not, I'm witty, effervescent and attractive."

I gathered myself to storm off angrily again, but he grabbed me by my shoulders and spun me around. "Look," he said. "I'm sorry. You had a rough night. But you have to get used to it. It's always like that"

I wouldn't look at him.

"Would a small consolation prize help?"

I looked at him. I barely had time before he kissed me.

I'd always expected my first kiss to be with some loser from school, not one of my favorite fictional characters. I mean, no one ever expects their first kiss to be with a fictional character, but you get the idea.

It was the ideal first kiss. I got everything included in the standard packagestars in front of your eyes, weak knees, sweaty palms, racing heart. It had come so unexpectedly I had no time to react. All I did was stand there like a nimrod, knowing I should be putting my hands around his neck or something, but my arms seemed to have frozen up and I was stick looking like a tranquilized gorilla.

He broke the kiss even though I wanted it to go on forever. 

"That better?"

I opened my eyes and looked up at him. He was smiling his usual Draco-smile, and I could tell the kiss hadn't meant too much to him. He probably gave them out on a regular basis. But you know what? I didn't care one bit. I smiled too and nodded.

I let him put his arm around my shoulders as we walked through the dark Forbidden Forest towards Hogwarts, even though I had seen him in the same pose with another Slytherin 5th year just the other day. It didn't matter because it just made me feel so comforted. 

Even when I was safe inside my bed later I could still almost feel his arm draped over me like a warm blanket that could shield me from anything. It had certainly been quite a night. The whole experience would plague me with nightmares for months after that, but at the moment, all I could think of was a certain boy whom my crush on had just grown about the size of a Hungarian Horntail. 

Yet as I drifted off to sleep, other thoughts invaded my mindunanswered questions swam wildly through my head. What exactly _was_ the Ultimate Monster? Why did they need Zephyr? Why did they need me, for that matter? How did such a physically perfect being (Draco) come to like me in some way, shape, or form? And why did he have to be evil? 

I sighed. If only they made guys like that back home.

This chapter was difficult and forced, so if you didn't like it, blame my muse, Asparagus. He's responsible for my utmost lack of creativity. That's what you get for a having a flying penguin for a muse. And alas, Draco has become wildly OOC and there was no Harry, Hermione, or Ron in this one at allI'll try harder, my friends, I really willjust don't hurt me! Next chapter due soon! Adios! AND REVIEW OR BE FED TO RABID HELLHOUNDS!

--Mrs. Norris, a.k.a. Pegasus


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